Calibre of a Forged Soul
by Sir Taynvictory
Summary: Heroes were never born. They were made; Forged from the fires that were the trials of life. Ordinary people thrust into extraordinary situations. Through the strength of one's Will and the Light of one's Soul, anyone could rise to the challenge. He supposed he was somewhat of an exception; a body of metal with a will to match, and a Soul that shone with the fires of the forge.
1. Prologue

**_Calibre of a Forged Soul - Prologue: "Bronze Presentation"_**

* * *

 _ **Clack. Clack. Clack.**_

He sighed. The loud, guttural sound echoed throughout the small armoury. 'Whirrs' and 'clicks' quickly drown him out as streamlined, metallic cylinders affixed themselves around the arms of the one in front of him. Automated machines lining the walls refilled magazines with all kinds with ammunition - both regular and Dust infused.

The nerves were getting to him. He couldn't help it as he ran a rough hand through tousled locks.

"So…" He swallowed; mouth and throat uncomfortably dry as he did so. He needed a drink - and if this all went pear-shaped, something particularly strong as well, "…This is more-or-less it. Are you completely prepared?"

 _ **Clack. Whirr. Clank.**_

One last clank saw to the left set of cylinders being fixed securely in place. Metallic digits flexed as the clamps holding the arm up released, the limb bobbing once as sheer strength fought against both gravity and sheer weight.

" _If everything should go according to plan, I can confirm with a ninety-seven-point-six-two percent accuracy of being 'completely prepared.'._ "

 _ **Whirr. Buzz. Clank.**_

He massaged his eyes.

"Your voice is doing that undercurrent digital tone again. You have to watch that."

A hum met his ears, one far more natural than the previous synthetic speech.

"My…I am sorry, Professor Ritter." A small smile formed at the genuine apologetic tone in the now organic voice, "It is still a force of habit."

"Bah, it's not that much of a problem." Oh did he wish he felt as confident as he sounded. "Given what we - _what you_ \- have managed to accomplish, something as small as a vocal habit can be overlooked."

The individual's head turned to look at him, orange eyes nearly glowing - even in the well-lit armoury.

"Thank you, Professor Ritter."

 _ **Clack. Buzz. Clank.**_

The second set of clamps released, and the armour encased right arm joined its opposite at the android's sides.

Professor Aneurin Ritter nodded in response, eyes wandering over the cylindrical articles of armour that encased the individual's arms from his wrists to most of the way up his biceps. Sometimes he seriously questioned the intelligence - and more often than not, the sanity as well - of the lot that developed the 'Revolving Receiver Gauntlets' and called them such, when anyone with even the tiniest amount of knowledge when it came to armour would be able to _clearly_ tell that they were _not_ gauntlets at all, but more comparable to a set vambraces _and_ rerebraces.

"There is only an estimated thirteen-point-oh-four percent chance of successfully distracting your mind by nit-picking with topics that are only somewhat relevant to the subject at hand."

A small smile pulled at his lips.

"I don't recall installing you with anything that grants the capability to read minds."

"Reading minds?" Orange eyes turned to him once more, pure confusion evident on his face, "It is one thing to read the mind of an individual. It is another to read the cues and expressions of someone you have known and had more than a decade of experience in dealings with, Professor."

His smile didn't so much as change into an exasperated glare as it did slide down his face.

"Remind me to go over whatever you have in your head that governs everything to do with humour. Not quite as tuned as it should be."

"Of course, Professor."

He sighed once more, glaring at the innocent expression he-couldn't-quite-tell-if-it-was-genuinely-innocent-or-not that stared back at him. He didn't know how - and he didn't know when, but he was going to have _words_ with whoever had the 'smart' idea of teaching the concept of gadfly-humour to _an android_.

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing Tin-can-"

"Composite chassis made of multiple near-impervious alloys and highly resilient synthetic polymers, actually."

"- _Tin_ -c _an_. Shush."

The android turned on his heel, reaching a table practically covered in numerous magazines. The left cylindrical, revolver chamber-esque vambrace rotated once, revealing a single slot in the underarm.

One of the many magazines strewn about the table was inserted into the waiting slot, held for a brief moment, and removed. The vambrace revolved once more, and the process was repeated with another magazine. A satisfied hum would sound out, and the process was then repeated with the right vambrace, then the left rerebrace, and finally followed by the right rerebrace.

He couldn't help but think in the lull. This was really going to happen, wasn't it?

"You should really get moving, Professor." Orange eyes flick backwards. "From what I have been told, the tolerance of the Spectrum Council may be legendary, but it does indeed have its limits."

Another sigh escaped him. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

He looked up, catching the android's lips as they curled into a smile.

"Wipe that grin off your face. You might be strong enough to carry all this pressure and laugh about it, but _I'm_ getting too old for this."

All that seemed to do was make that _damned smile_ widen. He turned; a brisk pace carried him to the lift at the opposite end of the room.

"I'm not going to wish you luck kid, something as superstitious as that doesn't have a place in my business," the doors parted, and he stepped inside, "So what I'll say is this: _Go out there, and show them what you can do_."

He turned, and orange eyes met his as the doors closed.

"It is what I was forged to do, correct?"

The lift jolted, ascending with nary a hum. His forehead met the door, and the cool metal somewhat calmed his mind.

It didn't calm him completely though, and soon his thoughts returned to just what the entire project revolved around.

He sighed once more. The guttural, fatigued sound echoed throughout the enclosed lift.

"…Kid's going to be the death of me, I swear…"

* * *

Aneurin wasn't all that surprised to note that the moment the doors to the observation room parted for him, he was hit with the combined noise of a comfortably full room. Department Leaders were milling around, eager to see how all their hard work would pay off. Benefactors that had the knowledge of _what_ they funded were present to see just where their Lien had been spent. He spotted General Ironwood stood off in a corner, surrounded by a number of scientists from the Atlesian Division. No doubt they were here to see how their 'Mistrian Brother Project' compared to their own Puppeteer Project.

He made note of who were present, exchanging minor pleasantries with the few that greeted him. It was only a quick exchange though, and people in his path parted before him. The short walk from the lift to the observation room had given him plenty of time to compose himself. All they had to do was take a single glance at the steel-like expression he wore, and they understood.

Focus was absolute, and he would need every last ounce of it for what was to come.

His feet carried him to the centre of the room. Eyes locked onto the screens opposite the observation pane.

He stopped, and _all_ chatter came to an abrupt end.

" _Good morning, Professor._ "

Six great screens displayed figures shrouded in shadow. Any detailing features were completely obscure, with only their gender and species discernible thanks to their barely visible frames.

" _From the reports we have received over the years, it would be…prudent for us to admit that_ _we are extremely impressed with the progress of the Vulcan Project thus far, Professor._ "

He nodded. 'Red' always did cut straight to heart of the matter.

" _However,_ " The vulpine ears of 'Orange' twitched once, " _It is one thing to read about results on a scroll screen, and another to witness them in person…so to speak._ "

" _And I suppose,_ " The musical tone that belonged to 'Violet' echoed throughout the chamber, " _That you will include some suitably dramatic speech or some-such?_ "

General Ironwood looked distinctly nervous in his peripheral vision - tugging at his collar ever-so-slightly.

His lips twitched - and he couldn't quite tell if they were trying to form a smile, or a frown. He didn't really care if it was 'racistly stereotypical' or not, but the feline Faunus didn't do much to present herself in any other mood other than 'stoic, aloof & frigid' or 'desirous of watching people squirm for her own amusement'.

"Only when certain points need to be emphasised will I be 'suitably dramatic', Ma'am."

'Violet' hummed, and he took the brief second of silence as his cue. A brisk nod to one of the seated operators had her typing at her console, and the sole unpowered screen beneath the other six flickered to life; displaying the testing chamber behind him.

"Aura." He folded his hands behind his back. "It is the power that allows us to bear the burdens we carry, and it is the shield that protects us from harm. But it is more than that; it is the proof of our souls. It is the proof of our _existence_. Since time immemorial, we have held onto that belief, the belief that the Lights of our souls are a fire in the Darkness - a beacon to guide the way, and a pyre to consume our enemy."

The glare he levelled at the Council was as measured as it was unyielding.

"When we emerged from the dust: We built. When the Dark revealed itself: We adapted. And when the _Grimm_ emerged: _We fought back_. The « _Vulcan Project_ »…"

His eyes darted to another operator, who nodded back.

"…Is simply one of the latest attempts at adapting and fighting back: _the creation of an artificial Aura wielder._ The _creation_ of an _artificial soul_."

The silence was gratifying - in a manner, and all he had to do now was wait for someone not quite in the loop to ask the obvi-

"B-but! A-an…arti…artificial _**soul**_? Tha-that's _impossible_!"

 _Called it._

" _Why?_ " A number of people - the speaker included - behind him jolted, "Why is it that whenever the idea is brought up, it gets brushed off as being 'impossible'? Why is it 'impossible' to artificially create an Aura? A _**soul**_? Because old theories from decades long since passed deem it so? Because those in charge all but refuse to push against the so-called 'boundaries' that 'exist'? Because they are afraid of 'playing God'?"

Ironwood took steps during the Puppeteer Project's demonstration to avoid mentioning those particular subjects.

Not him though. Not here.

" _Are you not afraid of 'playing God', Professor?_ "

He glared, expression flickering into a disapproving frown for a moment. He knew who _this_ 'Green' _was_ before he even received the title from the previous holder. And so far, the only thing that changed was the bugger went from 'little shit' to 'slightly larger shit'. Not that he cared in the least that 'Green' hated him for some-reason-or-another. Was he irritated whenever the little bugger opened his trap? Yes, undoubtedly. But not to even the smallest of degrees did he care that he was disliked.

The fact that 'Green' didn't interrupt at any point during the Puppeteer Project's demonstration just lent credit to his belief.

"I will be afraid of 'playing _God_ ' when he-slash-her comes down to tell me off in person, Sir."

" _That is-_ "

" _Enough._ "

'Yellow' leant forward, her contralto voice silencing the little bugger. It was nice to see that he wasn't alone in his dislike of 'Green'. The fact that he _also_ knew 'Yellow' before she became 'Yellow' personally - memories of many a night spent just drunkenly complaining about life in general came to mind - made it all the more satisfying.

" _I believe the only method of convincing some of those present would be the more…corporeal aspect of this demonstration, Professor._ "

He flicked his gaze left. A third operator tapped their console.

The blast doors into the chamber itself hissed; whirring as a fog filtered into the room in between the door's openings.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Spectrum, may I present you with the culmination of the Vulcan Project…"

A pair of orange lights flashed in the haze.

"…Talos Vulcan."

The android emerged from the fog, and the chatter immediately picked up as Talos' precise - and more importantly, _natural_ \- gait carried him to the centre of the chamber. From what he picked out of the talk that filtered into his mind though, there was one thing in particular that popped up more than once.

" _It seems…odd that something designed to emulate the human form would display its mechanical origins so…openly._ " Of course, it'd be _bloody_ 'Green' to open his trap. " _Is there a reason for this, Professor?_ "

Shelving his dislike for 'Green' for the moment, he _did_ have a point. It made sense that many a person would notice that. The gunmetal machinery than made up the ball-and-socket joints that connected the arms to the shoulders was clearly visible. At the very least, the hip joints as well as the upper thigh area were covered by a grey synthetic layer. Visible was still visible though, and the brass coloured edgings of Talos' armoured limbs just made it more so.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"The numerous requests put forward for more materials required to construct enough synthetic skin and a thin musculature layer to cover the complete human form were continually denied." 'Green' bristled. "We simply did not receive the resources necessary to create anything more than enough to cover the majority of the head and neck regions. For everything else, we had no choice but to improvise with the alternates we had at our disposal. Namely the Lycra composed cloth that is currently…visible, as well as full-form concealing clothing."

'Orange' cleared his throat.

" _And I suppose that those…headphones that 'Talos' is wearing also have something to do with the…lack of materials?_ "

"You would be correct, Sir."

'Orange' nodded, satisfied with the answer.

" _Couldn't make a pair of ears, Professor?_ "

His brow furrowed.

"My Doctorates of Philosophy were earned in the fields of Advanced Robotics, Artificial Intelligence, and HRI. Not Biology." Even framed by shadow, the smile that 'Violet' bore was near perfectly visible, and his expression adopted a frown in response. "With all due respect, I don't even have the foggiest as to what an ear is made out of; much less make two for the Vulcan Project."

Stifled laughter sounded throughout the room. Laughter became choked gasps as 'Red' coughed once.

" _Whilst we are thankful that such a…miscommunication within the organisation has come to light, it appears as if we have strayed from the purpose of this demonstration._ " He nodded. " _I believe that a presentation of…Talos' capabilities in the field of armed combat would be a sufficient start._ "

Another operator worked at her console before he even had to give the signal.

He glanced at the feed from the testing chamber. Multiple armoury lockers and shelves emerged from the openings created as sections of the floors parted. Stood in the centre was Talos, browsing through the lockers as the far wall divided to reveal a firing range. Targets bearing the facsimiles of Class-Five Grimm were joined to rails, and roughly a dozen Atlesian Knight-One-Thirties entered the room, taking up positions at multiple points in the range.

Talos' halted at one locker in particular, eyes positively - and thankfully, not literally - glowing in delight.

Murmurs of interest sprang up around the room as the android pulled a tactical firearm harness from the locker, fastening the gear to his frame with a practiced ease. The firearms followed, resting comfortably in their holsters as they were clipped onto the harness: A pair of foot-long holstered handguns criss-crossed over Talos' lumbar region, and two large, identical - save for the different cylinders they bore - long guns rested in their compact forms, holstered vertically over the android's shoulders.

The android dug through each locker in turn, drawing numerous magazines of different varieties and fixing them to his person.

With all the magazines affixed to his harness - as well as the ammunition that Talos was loading into his little firearm collection, the android was well on his way to becoming a walking armoury.

" _The rifle is…«Pot_ _é_ _» of the «_ _Chrysá Míla_ _», if I'm not mistaken,_ " 'Yellow' hummed at his nod, eyes fixated on the rifle as it was drawn from its sheath and expanded into its full form. The lever was worked forward, and single cartridge canister was slotted into the waiting cylinder, " _I find myself dreadfully curious as to how and why Talos decided to create a long-arms rifle with a combination of both a lever_ _ **and**_ _a revolver action._ "

Poté was shouldered, pointed down-range as the android observed the ever-shifting landscape of the chamber.

The first target shot up, front depicting the image of an Ursa Minor mid-lunge.

 _ **BANG!**_

Splinters erupted from where the bullet struck, false Ursa - now sans everything above the neck - clattering against the ground.

 _ **Cla-clack.**_

Two more replaced the fallen mark, a Creep and a Boarbatusk on different storey elevations.

 _ **BANG!**_

They fell just as quickly as the first.

"I posed the exact same curiosity to Talos himself when he presented me with the blueprints for Poté," He shrugged, even as Talos dropped another target with said rifle, "His response was - and I quote - 'Because it will be _so_ cool if it works'."

" _I do not recall receiving any reports on the_ _Chrysá Míla being a part of the Vulcan Project, Professor._ "

Even as 'Green' spoke, he kept his eyes on the chamber feed. Ammunition lockers retracted back into the ground as the chamber converted more-and-more of itself into a firing range. The cut-out Grimm targets spread out further apart, and the One-Thirty 'Spookies' began to move - taking cover behind the barricades that extended from the floor.

Two more targets revealed themselves, both directly to the android's left and right. The cut-outs were too far apart to hit both before either one would retract into the floor.

Talos' reaction was simple: he drew a single handgun and aimed at the two targets simultaneously.

"Aspiring Hunters are allowed to build their own, _unique_ Trick-Weapons." Even as the dual firearm routine continued, Talos was steadily getting fancier with his trick-shooting. « _Tous_ » was aimed and firing in one direction as Poté was fired from his hip at targets in a completely different one, rifle being flip-cocked after every shot. He huffed. Damn android was just _overtly_ showing off now. "It was only fair that Talos was given the same privilege."

The chatter in the room picked up once more, targets dropping almost as quickly as they deployed. They wanted a demonstration with standard - well, more-or-less standard-ish - firearms?

He was more than happy to oblige.

Poté span one final time, frame compacting as it slid back into its holster. One final target shot from the ground - another snarling Ursa painted on the front - a dozen feet away from the android.

Tous' sister handgun - « _Gia_ » - met it, barrel lined up with the target's crimson eyes.

 _ **BANG!**_

As the shot rang out, an operator tapped at their console.

 _Phase two._

The chamber had completed its transformation. No longer did it resemble a firing range, and the closest comparison he could think of was that of a largely cluttered urban combat scenario. Many a One-Thirty had taken cover, surrounding the android as they remained out of line of sight.

Talos - even through a video feed - looked entirely unconcerned, seemingly more bothered with the fresh round canisters he was slotting into Gia's and Tous' cylinders.

A few people whispered to one another when the android slotted magazines into the vambraces _and_ rerebraces, and a couple of the…less informed individuals gaped when it clicked that the magazines were slotted into Talos' arms themselves.

 _ **Click.**_

The android looked up, orange eyes scanning the landscape as his head turned on a swivel.

" _I am surprised that you are not taking this time to ladle us with some form exposition, Professor._ "

Talos began walking in a random direction.

"To be perfectly frank Ma'am, everyone present has either read the reports they are fully entitled to read, or just not interested in hearing me waffle on about the specifications of the algorithms used in Talos' fire-control systems or some such."

A few observers chuckled, even as 'Yellow' leant back in her seat. He shrugged. The video feed followed the android in question as he slunk down the recently formed alleys. The dozen One-Thirties followed in loose formation in turn, moving as one and in such manner as they stalked their target that it brought images of hardened Spec-Ops units to mind.

Talos slowed, Gia and Tous raised as the android skulked down one of the many passages, face stoic in concentration.

The android's gait was precise. Measured. Careful.

It would also carry him directly into the path of a waiting Spooky.

The moment Gia's barrel passed the corner threshold, the One-Thirty lashed out - arm descending and forcing the handgun down as the metallic digits clamped over the handgun. The droid's wrist-blade deployed as it rounded the corner, arm drawn back and poised to skewer the android it faced.

 _Far_ too slow. Talos had already twisted his frame as his own arm snaked up inside of the One-Thirty's guard. A slight push against the metallic arm was all it took to send the blade to sail harmlessly past the android's form.

It didn't end there. Talos shifted; arm blurring as it ghosted over and around the limb of the One-Thirty, trapping the arm between his own, underarm, and body.

The Spooky jolted as Talos _pulled_ , and the air was filled with the sound of metal shearing as mechanical servos and joints were pulled apart.

Talos arched his body ever-so-slightly, Gia raised as he did so. A moment later and the handgun came down, half shearing, half crushing _through_ the attacking robot's shoulder. The Spooky was not one to go down without a fight - even as damaged as it was. One last act of defiance saw it lean back before lurching forward, head rocketing forward with enough force to fracture the front of anyone's skull.

Gia's sister handgun flashed across, smashing the droid's head clean off and sending the abused dome of scrap metal into the air in an arc.

Two more droids charged forward as Talos pulled Tous free from their comrade's brutalised frame.

His eyes cut away from the feed, gaze panning over numerous operators as they worked at their consoles. He has seen Talos' gymnastic gunplay routine more times that he could recall - even if the android was…performing against 'live' targets this time around. Those observing were completely enthralled - even Ironwood was at the very least affected by the display. Mistral might not have had the mechanical advantage that Atlas held when it came to robotics, but he had friends in high places, in many places, and whom all owed him some favours.

He looked back just in time to witness the third Spooky fall. The second had fallen to a Failure Drill and the third was being…Gun-Fu'd? Gun-Kata'd?…Whatever the term was - into submission. They hadn't completely failed their objective though, Spooky-Three had managed to clamp its fingers around Gia, wresting the handgun away from the android. Not that he blamed him. Spectrum custom Spookies could pull apart Bullhead plating with ease.

Besides - he grinned; the guns Talos carried weren't his _only_ weapons.

Spooky-Four came into view, arms configured into Gatling mode and spooling up.

The android threw his hand out, fingers pointing towards his attacker.

The silence - he reckoned - from the crowd was gratifying as an entire magazine's worth of ammunition was emptied into the Spooky, all fired from Talos' fingertips.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is the first and foremost weapon that Talos is equipped with," He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "The _FINGAH_."

This time the silence was one of befuddlement, even as Spooky-Five was riddled with holes courtesy of a burst of fire from the android's other hand.

"… _Finger, Professor?_ "

'Violet' just - once again - sounded amused.

"Not…quite, Ma'am. _FINGAH_. **F** orearm **I** ntegrated **N** ewtonne- **G** atling **A** ssault **H** ousing." Spookies Six, Seven, and Eight were rapidly closing the distance from two different directions as Talos slotted a drum-mag into a left hand receiver. The android watched as he aimed both hands, digits forming the unmistakable 'finger gun' gesture. "Blame the lot in the labs. They have an almost pathological desire for puns and having fun with acronyms."

Three shots rang out, and three targets fell - each one's head shattering in a shower of metals and polymers.

" _Of course._ "

The last three Spookies were a little more…creative in their approach. Nine had picked up the disabled form of a fellow Spooky, and was using the body as a makeshift battering ram. Ten had pulled two blades from one of its recently felled allies, wielding the two as if they were particularly styled hand-axes.

And most surprisingly of all, Spooky-Eleven had pried an entire _panel_ from the wall, creating a crude - but effective - Tower-shield.

This was another reason he loved Spectrum custom Spookies. They were far more adaptive than the factory produced ones straight off the assembly line.

Of course, being adaptive was a bit of a stretch when Spooky-Nine had decided to _throw_ the body it was carrying at Talos - something that provided to be far more effective that it should have been thanks only to the enclosed nature of the battlefield.

Talos leant back, twisting his frame towards the approaching 'projectile', knees bent as his arms came up to meet the One-Thirty as it passed. A form of improvised parry, he reckoned. Pushing away the droid as Talos hopped backwards with his back meeting the wall.

A smart move, giving that Spooky-Ten would have bisected the android vertically if Talos had remained where he was. It wasn't discouraged though; the moment one attack failed the 'Axe' wielding One-Thirty pivoted, bringing the same weapon around in a vertical swing.

Talos glanced down as the blade drew near, a small smile forming as he stomped down on something. It was an act that was shortly followed by an object being flicked into the air by that very same foot.

The blade connected with Gia's rail, metal screeching as Talos shifted his grip and directed the blade away: An act that sent the blade high and left the droid completely open to counter-attack.

The handgun was pressed against Ten's head, and the crack of Gia discharging saw another Spooky clatter to the ground. Tous was redrawn from its holster, and Spooky-Nine shortly followed its comrade to the scrapheap.

" _And I suppose that whatever is housed in Talos' upper arms also bears an amusing acronym?_ "

The android turned his attention to the sole remaining One-Thirty.

"Not quite."

The drum-mag was dropped completely as Talos re-holstered both handguns - the android straightening his left arm out towards the final One-Thirty, vambrace spinning once and locking into place as the android took aim.

There was still a magazine loaded into the rerebrace, after all.

Eleven braced itself behind its makeshift shield, just as a foot long barrel emerged from Talos' palm.

"They just get called his 'Guns' on the reports."

The loud - almost thundering - crack from the chamber interrupted any form of retort. There wasn't much one can say over the firing of an anti-materiel rifle, and even less so when the fired High-Explosive Armour-Piercing round punched through a piece of armour plating as if it were tissue paper, as well as obliterating everything that existed directly to the left Spooky-Eleven's spine.

The makeshift shield clattered to the ground, no longer held up by an arm that no longer existed. Amazingly, the droid had yet to fall. Its remaining arm was outstretched - Gatling barrels unable to spin due to damage, and the red glare normally produced to signal a working Dust Engine was flickering erratically.

The One-Thirty took two steps before collapsing, Dust Engine glaring in defiance one final time as it broke down.

 _Time for Stage Three._

"As you can see," Operators began tapping at their consoles once more as everyone present turned their attention back to him, "Talos is not only capable in utilizing firearms that - whilst both stylised and heavily customised - are well within the realm of similarity with those found in your standard military armoury. Additionally, as long as Talos has access to a filled magazine, he cannot be truly disarmed. The vambraces and rerebraces are not strictly necessary, but they make the process of utilising the _FINGAH's_ multiple calibre barrel system a much smoother and more effective weapons platform."

The chamber began to alter once more. Raised platforms that simulated buildings sank back into the ground as Talos made his way back into the centre of the room. As the android passed an unseen threshold, sections of the floor rose once more, forming a completely encasing cylindrical barrier wall - and more importantly, completely removing his line of sight of everything outside said wall.

A loud klaxon sounded in the chamber, shortly followed by a section in the floor split to reveal a reinforced cage.

Cries and exclamations of shock and fear echoed around the observation room. It made sense, even if he was irritated that the sounds more-or-less represented the lack of trust and belief in the Vulcan Project as a whole.

" _A Banderslash, Professor?_ "

Said Banderslash stalked out of the reinforced cage into the chamber; the large, Class-Four Grimm resembling a cross between a wombat and a bulldog, packed into a vaguely feline form the size of a car. It hissed and growled, jaws parting to reveal multiple rows of jagged teeth.

Talos was once again without a care in the world, loading a single round canister into the sole weapon he had yet to use.

The almost overly loud ' _ **Ca-clack**_ ' « _St_ _á_ _si_ » made as the lever action was worked was almost foreboding.

"Of course," He nodded his head once, "How else would we be able to truly test the entire _reason_ the Vulcan Project was created for without one? Aura: The manifestation of one's soul. And Semblance: A tangible projection of one's Aura."

Even separated from its prey by a four foot thick wall the Grimm prowled, leaving large gashes in the floor thanks to the claws that gave the beast its namesake as its attention was completely fixed on where Talos was stood on the other side. Grimm always had their uncanny - and annoyingly elusive to researchers - ability to detect Aura, no matter the surroundings.

Still, an artificially created Aura was still an Aura. ANIMA made sure of that.

This time, Talos' eyes _literally_ began to glow. The chatter began to pick back up once more as the android tracked the large Grimm as if he were watching the beast through a window, projecting the image of a big game hunter as Stási remained held in one hand and propped up against his shoulder.

He nodded to the video feed.

" _Semblance_."

An operator tapped their console once.

The Barrier wall dropped.

A loud, soul rattling roar echoed as the Banderslash pounced.

Talos threw out his unoccupied hand, directly in between him and the beast that sought to end him.

"And _Aura_."

A completely indescribable sound resonated as the Grimm was halted mid lunge, and a hexagonal, semi-transparent bronze shield separated Talos and the Class-Four Grimm. Another howl torn itself free from the throat of the Banderslash, the hatred and impotent fury was clear in the beast's tone.

Talos simply smiled in response.

He then levelled Stási directly in line with the Grimm's eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen."

He couldn't quite keep the smile off his face as the discharge of a shotgun rang out for all to hear.

"I do believe this concludes the demonstration of the Vulcan Project."

* * *

"Well…" Aneurin muttered, the ice in the tumbler clinking together as he held the glass in his hand. "I did say I was going to need a drink earlier."

Another shot was poured into the small glass, and a single laugh escaped him as a thought struck his inebriated mind. Drinking was usually the result if one of two things happened: Either you drank as a result of something personally horrible happening and you needed to forget, or you drank to commemorate a great event.

The loud, resounding cheer from beyond his office reminded him just what results he was drinking to.

" _I would have thought you would be celebrating with the rest of your co-workers._ "

He turned to the screen on his desk, the device displaying the image of someone no longer framed in concealing shadow.

"Ahh, yes. Well, I was, but then some bright sparked - dulled by one too many pints, I think - had the grand idea of challenging Talos to a drinking contest." Another cheer rang out. 'Yellow' raised a single eyebrow in response, even as she brought a saucer of Vacuese saké to her lips. "That must be the sixth person he's drank under the table. Good thing all the labs are locked, or else Spectrum could have found their Mistrian branch a smoking crater come morning."

" _And you are not particularly bothered that your scientists are drinking themselves to stupor in the vain hopes of besting someone that cannot get drunk?_ "

"Nah." He downed the whisky is a single, smooth motion. "Besides. I think the hangover in the morning is punishment enough, especially when I get Talos to parade around completely hangover-free in front of their tired arses."

" _You're terrible._ "

"Yup. But for now, they can enjoy themselves."

Twenty-Five years the Vulcan Project was in development, and eight of those were spent just planning and hypothesising. But now, everyone's hard work has finally paid off.

" _The Council also wanted me to pass on that we have collectively read over this 'Persona Initiative', or whatever you are calling it. You have our full backing with any and all of your future endeavours unless notified otherwise._ "

His eyes widened as his head shot forward, any faster and he was sure he would've tumbled from his seat. A discrete glance towards the monitor opposite 'Yellow' brought what they were talking about into view.

" _I guess I should also make mention that the Council has decided that diverting more resources towards the Vulcan Project will be a 'worthwhile expenditure'. Congratulations, Aneurin._ "

There was only one thing he could think of in repose.

"Thank you."

" _Not a problem._ " 'Yellow' peered down at her drink, a small frown forming over her stern features. " _Drinking with a friend is far more enjoyable in person._ "

He smiled.

"Indeed."

" _Perhaps next time the situation calls for it, we should plan to do so in person, but as for now I must retire._ " She smiled at him, a far too amused expression on her face. " _No doubt you have calls to place and favours to call in. Enrolment is still a lengthy process, and the new Academy terms start in a week or so._ "

His glass was raised in acknowledgement, and with a final nod of acceptance the display of 'Yellow' blinked out of existence.

So the Council approved of his next goal? If his mind wasn't as occupied as it was, he probably would have cheered. The tumbler was set down on its coaster as the other hand tapped at the keyboard, dialling the number he wanted.

If he got the time zones right, then _she_ would be just would either be on her way, or already seated in her office at work.

"… _Halifax Haycroft speaking, might I ask who is calling?_ "

At the very least she had answered her phone.

"Good morning Halifax, Aneurin here." He began tapping at his keyboard. "Would I be correct in believing you are in your office at the moment?"

" _You would be,_ " She confirmed, " _And given you didn't give me the opportunity to make a comment on the fact that it's near one in the morning in Mistral or something along the lines of 'you should be in bed', would I be correct in believing that this is a business call instead of one of leisure?_ "

"You would be." His computer chimed in confirmation as he sent the e-mail. "I…I'm calling in a favour, Halifax. And before you ask, it's one of the _big_ ones."

" _Then you'll be glad to know that I've just had my morning dose of coffee. I'm all ears._ "

He licked his lips.

"You remember two and a half decades ago, when Spectrum hired me for a big project?"

" _I remember you not shutting up about it, then going silent and citing a nondisclosure agreement a week later._ "

"Well, it's just culminated in a…let's say a resounding success, and I've been given the go ahead for my next project."

" _Uh-huh. I guess that's what this e-mail I've just received is all about._ " Halifax hummed over the phone. " _There are quite a few attachments as well._ "

"Correct, open up the first attachment and the second afterwards and you'll have a clearer picture."

" _This is starting to sound-_ "

Whatever words that were to be spoken were cut off by a sharp inhale. Seconds became minutes, and the only thing audible was the clicking of a mouse and the odd sound from a video recording.

" _This…I…_ " For once, Halifax sounded completely at a loss for words, " _…How?_ "

"Spectrum, remember?" He leant back in his chair. The cheering from earlier sounded so very far away now. "Research and Development is kind of our thing."

" _Research? Development?_ " She still sounded slightly hysterical, " _Dust-aid Canisters, I can believe Spectrum R-and-D-ing! Trick-Weapons are another! But this? This is…This is…_ "

"Revolutionary? Controversial? Believe me Halifax; I've heard them all before." He ran a hand through his hair, covering his eyes as he massaged his temples. "…I know of the consequences. But I've spent twenty-five years on this, Seventeen years of those as a _father_. The 'Persona Initiative' is not something I was ordered to do. It is something I wish to see unfold. It is something _my son_ wishes to take part in. If it backfires, then fair enough…but it is _worth_ trying to make work."

"And if it works? Well…" A short, tired, bark of a laugh escaped him, fingers tracing one of the two pictures he kept framed on his desk, "…well, as my wife said: if it's stupid but it works, then it's not stupid now, is it?"

A tired, guttural sigh broke the building silence.

" _I…I understand, and for what it's worth Ane, what you've done is…it should be impossible. But you've done it, and it's brilliant._ " Halifax paused as she cleared her throat. " _What do you need me to do?_ "

He smiled, sighing as he sagged in his chair. His eyes returned to the picture his computer displayed: a single picture of a large, grandiose, castle-like complex.

"How long will it take to get an application to Beacon, in such a way that the Headmaster has to meet us in person?"


	2. Chapter 1

_**Calibre of a Forged Soul - Chapter One: "A Light amongst Many"**_

* * *

Even with a supercomputer in the place of a brain - one that could literally calculate rocket science if he really put his mind to it, Talos still had some difficulty in deciding whether or not he liked the ' _Golden Blend Coffee House_ '. The aesthetics he appreciated. The Jazz lounge-esque appearance had a well-worn, urban charm to it. No, it was mainly because the Coffee House was thirty stories above ground, somewhere in between Vale's Commercial and Upper-Class district.

It may have been a quirk thanks to ANIMA, but he just didn't like places surrounded by people whom looked so far down their noses at everyone that it was difficult to face them directly without involuntarily looking up a pair of nostrils.

"Welcome to - ahh, Miss Haycroft," The greeter smiled as Councillor Haycroft led them in, brown pinstripe suit looking completely at home amongst the Coffee House, "A pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise, Burnell." The Councilwoman flipped a card in the barista's direction; a card that was likewise swiped out of the air by the barista in question. "These two are with me - anything you want to drink?"

He hummed, glancing at the board behind the counter.

"I'll have…hmm, a large café frappé for me. Métrios and with milk, please."

"Vale Fog here," Aneurin raised his hand, "Just a regular."

"And I'll have the regular." Haycroft craned her neck, looking into the Coffee House itself. "We're meeting someone, probably came in with his own drink - mug and all, as well as a briefcase."

"Then you'll be glad to know that he turned up five minutes ago." The barista smirked. "We still haven't found out where he gets his coffee from; the Betting Pool's up to three-grand now. He's sat in your usual place, go on through and we'll have your drinks brought out."

Haycroft nodded once, then turned and began to walk away.

"Excuse me, young man." He turned, blinking once at the barista's apologetic expression. "I apologise, but headphones are not allowed to be worn in the establishment. It is to do with the atmosphere, you see…"

Hmm…That was certainly an odd sounding rule.

"Ahh…Sorry about that. We are…We are not from around here. From Mistral, in fact." Aneurin stepped forward, a tired grin pulled at his lips - even as he tapped the emblem on the labcoat he wore, "And I can see where you are coming from. They do look like - and in fact, can function as - a set of headphones, but they are primarily experimental hearing aids. As blunt it may be, I request that my _son_ be allowed to wear them, unless you would like a deaf individual to be deprived of one of his senses."

Burnell - in order - paled slightly, bowed his head, offered an apology, and made his way to the counter with a bit more speed in his pace than expected.

He huffed.

"I may be deaf dad, but I am not mute. I can speak for myself."

Aneurin just half-smiled.

"Of course. But I have a badge and a name I can drop when I want to sound and-slash-or be sarcastic and get away with it."

Halifax chuckled.

"You have absolutely no idea how odd it is to watch you two be deadpan at one another." The Councilwoman barely paused as they rounded a corner. "If anything, it's like watching Ane argue with himself from thirty-or-so years from the past."

To his surprise, it was his father that huffed in irritation.

"If that's the case, at least now I know just why my dry wit wasn't all that appreciated back then."

"Wit? From what I recall you usually came across as grouchy, all-round apathetic, or dark to the point of unpleasantness."

Aneurin frowned - and to his amusement, remained silent on the matter.

Seconds later and the small group arrived at their destination: a booth containing a single table that could seat four near a window, providing a beautiful view of the Vale skyline. As captivating as the cityscape view was, his attention shifted to the man sat in one corner closest to the window: Grey hair, sharp features, and clad entirely in green. He didn't even need his facial recognition software to identify the man flicking through the folder in front of him. Reputation alone was more than enough to identify the man.

"Professor Ozpin."

The Beacon Headmaster paused in his reading, turning his attention to the Councilwoman.

"Councillor Haycroft," Ozpin nodded once, and Councillor Haycroft slid into the seat beside him. "And you must be Professor Ritter and Mr Vulcan. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

Even as he seated himself, he could tell that he had caught the Headmaster's full attention. The amusement he felt was kept internal; all the reports and video feeds in the world would never quite prepare you for the real thing, he guessed. It didn't matter if it was a training video on Grimm or in this case, a fully functioning, near perfect humanoid android.

His father cleared his throat.

"I apologise if this is - actually no - it _is_ sudden. The new academy year starts in three days. I would have rather given you a good two months in advance over _this_ , but…" Aneurin gestured to the air, tired expression tinged with rue, "Sometimes I feel as if someone in a higher position has it out for me."

"That is quite alright," Ozpin nodded, turning another page in the folder, "I admit - even after spending four days going over everything - to being surprised at just what Spectrum has managed to accomplish."

Aneurin grinned, folding his arms as he did so.

"Not just Dust-aid and Trick-Weapons like most people believe, hmm?"

Councillor Haycroft frowned at his father with a light glare. Ozpin just glanced in his direction once more.

"Evidently. I will also admit that if it wasn't for the information you have provided me with, I would have easily mistaken Mr Vulcan for an average - if well dressed - young man."

Okay, maybe he was a little too fond of dress shirts; standard tees had an annoying tendency to get caught on his arm casing edges and tear holes in them. And if anyone was to blame for the brown longcoat, it was Spectrum for making them.

He nodded.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Whatever Ozpin was going to continue on with was interrupted by an approaching waitress. Drinks orders were handed out - he winced slightly at Councillor Haycroft's drink; how anyone could drink a coffee with a triple shot of espresso was beyond him - and he thanked the young woman as she placed the iced drink in front of him. The waitress smiled at him, and then walked back to the Bar front none the wiser as to what she had spoken too.

They had watched the short exchange, he noted: Headmaster Ozpin had raised a single eyebrow. Councillor Haycroft was hiding a grin behind her own cup. His father had spared a single glance before rolling his eyes.

He - however - shrugged as he brought the straw to his lips.

"And with that as an example, would I be correct in believing this 'Persona Initiative' to be what we have just witnessed, only on a much larger scale?"

Aneurin nodded.

"You would be."

Ozpin hummed in response, taking a sip from his mug as he closed the folder.

"Whilst I am thankful that you have granted me access to - well, everything you have in regards to Mr Vulcan, I am curious as to why that whilst you have allowed me to inform all the tutors of this 'Persona Initiative', you are not informing the students your son will be studying alongside."

The atmosphere became heavy as his father put his tea down. As practical as it was subtle, his father's Semblance was near enough perfect to convey just how serious his next words could be.

"I mean no disrespect towards you or the institute you run, but just look at Faunus-Human relations at the moment. Add in teenagers from both races growing up with prejudices of their own; you'll be lucky to get a week into the term before the first big confrontation happens." Ozpin grimaced at his father's words, yet nodded nonetheless. "Factoring in Soul possessing Androids such as Talos or Penny right off the bat? That's just a recipe for disaster."

His father had compared it to dumping a man in Grimm infested territory _after_ giving said Grimm a notice in advance that they going to do so.

"So you are hoping that Mr Vulcan can cultivate some bonds before his…secret is revealed to the public?"

"Yes," Ozpin blinked at his father's words - no doubt at the general unashamed tone he used, "I _do_ hope that when the fact that he is an android becomes the local school gossip, he will have friends that will still back him afterwards. It would be nice if everything went to plan, but nothing ever does in this world, now does it?"

A brief smile appeared as Ozpin hid the expression behind his mug.

"Indeed."

A single cough escaped the Councillor, who - whilst not looking impatient in the slightest - tapped her wristwatch a couple of times. Even with sparing time for this meeting, she was still a busy woman.

"I am a firm believer in 'What can go wrong, will go wrong - usually at the worst possible moment'," Aneurin paused as he downed the last of his drink, "That's why I make a single plan, then plans upon plans _upon plans_ based off how just how the initial plan goes pear-shaped."

"Completely understandable. However, one last question."

The Headmaster focused on him once more.

"I have heard the reasons of everyone else about your enrolment in Beacon, except your own. My question - Mr Vulcan, is just why is it do _you_ want to attend Beacon?"

He blinked. The words were turned over in his mind as he thought. Many a scientist had asked the same thing. Why a Hunter? Why not a soldier? Or why not become one of Spectrum's elite operatives? The first time he was asked, he had spent a few days in thought, wondering just why it was he wanted to be a Hunter.

It had taken a week, but he found his reason.

"I wish to protect, Headmaster." Ozpin didn't so much a blink as he spoke. "No doubt there are many ways to interpret just why I desire to do so. Programming. Orders. Tests and results. People are entitled to what they believe, but I am here for _my own_ reasons. I wish to attend Beacon for the very same reasons many others do: To protect those who are not able to protect themselves. To make the world a safer place. To make the world a _better_ place."

His father was grinning behind tented hands.

Headmaster Ozpin nodded once, and then smiled.

"Welcome to Beacon Academy."

* * *

There wasn't much he was expecting that would happen on the Airship journey to Beacon Academy itself. New students milled about all over the ship with the majority of them taking up space in the observation lounge. They were chatting amongst themselves, either about completely mundane topics or about the weapons they carried - for the ones that did, of course. He had spoken to a few of them earlier on in the flight: The Mistrian Faunus he remembered speaking to on the flight into Vale was present, and he made for a surprisingly friendly conversationalist. There were two Vacuese young women that were also enjoyable to talk to - even if one was stoic and a bit blunt. Not to mention a few others from Atlas and Vale itself.

Of course, he also wasn't expecting one of the students to be stumbling around, hands clamped over his mouth and looking all-round quite sick. He watched though, if only because there wasn't much else to do.

…Did that make him a bad person?

A wave caught the teen's attention, and the gesturing hand pointed off in one direction.

"There's a bin to the left through those doors."

The blond gurgled what he took as a 'Thank-you' and dashed off in the direction he was pointing.

The nerves could get to anyone, he reckoned. Even his own _I-CORE Heart_ was rumbling a bit more than he was comfortable with.

A chime resounded throughout the observation room, and the news feed was cut off by an image of a stern looking woman. The speech was tuned out after a moment or two - it sounded like it was going to be a base 'You are the next generation' type speeches, something he heard dozens of times, even if they were about being the first of his kind and all. The ship banked as it approached Beacon's airdocks, and near all of the students had moved over to the starboard windowpane.

The view - he would admit - was gorgeous. There wasn't exactly anywhere else where one could find a complete view of Vale except for the Beacon Cliffs. It probably symbolised just what it was they were learning to protect; Hunters watching over the grand Kingdom, and standing as the first line of defence against the beasts of darkness.

It was also possible he was making crap up, and Beacon was here because it's where the founders wanted it to be. Maybe they just liked the view as well.

The Airship lurched as it docked. He stood, servomotors whirring at a volume only he could hear as he stretched. Carrying Chrysá Míla in their collective sheaths really started to take its toll whenever he leant back in a seat and had them dig into his back.

The castle-like facility in the distance brought everything into perspective, in his mind. This really was the first time he actually wanted to do without the input of someone else. Sure, his father and the numerous scientists offered him advice on the future after the Vulcan Project. Sure he was 'acquiring' data for the Persona Initiative, but that was secondary.

He was here on his own accord, and now here he was, taking his first steps towar-

 _ **BTOOOOOM!**_

 _:: Main_System: Engaging Combat Mode. ::_

Statistics and readouts filled his vision as the world in general became clearer. Hands balled into fists as he set into a combat stance. His senses sharpened in the clarity, and a brief flick of his Semblance revealed no one hidden in the immediate vicinity. There wasn't anything of structural importance where they were stood. An assassination attempt, maybe? There were a few high profile students entering Beacon this year.

He turned his attention to the source, prepared to run damage control and aid if necessary.

"Unbelievable! This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about!"

He blinked; not quite comprehending what he was seeing, and in complete bemusement he lowered his arms.

"I'm really, _really_ sorry!"

 _:: Main_System: Switching to Normal Mode. ::_

The augmented reality Heads-up-Display faded from view as his focus returned from its heightened state. A brief groan escaped him as he shook his head, and the headache that formed was being stubbornly persistent in not leaving any time soon. Whatever _idiot_ that decided there should be some sort of negative feedback for rapidly swapping Main System modes should be taken out back and _shot_.

He cracked a single eye open, all but glaring in between his fingers.

"Ugh, you complete _dolt_! What are you even _doing_ here? Aren't you a little young to be attending Beacon?"

There was definitely some sympathy for the young woman on the end of the verbal battering - even if he didn't know her. The one delivering said verbal battering though, he recognised. Schnee; Weiss. She was also one of the potential Heiresses of the Schnee Dust Company as a whole.

And she was attending Beacon? _Huh_. The last Schnee he could recall attending a Hunter Academy was publicly disowned for 'Not adhering his father's desires of continuing to run the family owned business ventures' or however the news channels worded it at the time.

Aside from a few more publicly available facts, that was all he knew. Though the he felt aversion probably stemmed from the fact that his father preferred the Blauadel Dust Corporation over Schnee and somehow integrated that into his mind; from little of what he could remember from his father's rants before tuning him out at any rate.

Now that he thought about it, the Blauadel Heiress was here as well. What were the chances of that particular coincidence happening?

"Hey!"

He was pretty sure the call was directed towards him, so turned slightly to the speaker. It was the blond teen from earlier, half waving at him as he jogged over. Did he really run all the way from the Airship? Possibly, given that the teen doubled over when he reached him, hands on his knees as he gasped for air.

"Tha…Thanks for that…" The teen pushed off his knees with a last gasp, "Who…who knows where I would've thrown up if you didn't point me in the right direction."

His lips twitched.

"Probably all over the shoes of some unfortunate soul, I reckon." A quick rummage through one of his many pockets and he found what he was searching for. "Here."

The teen stared what he was proffering.

"Chewing Gum?"

He couldn't quite hold back from frowning when the unpleasant scent hit him.

"Mint flavoured. It'll help with your breath."

The teen looked nonplussed for a moment as he brought a cupped hand to his face. A second later his eyes bugged, and the confectionary was snatched out of his fingertips before he could blink.

"Thanks again. Man, guess I should've done a bit more than a rinse-out." The teen paused for a moment, and a second later offered his hand. "I'm Jaune."

He clamped the offered hand with his own.

"Talos."

Jaune stared for a moment as they shook hands.

"Mistrian?"

"Born and raised." It was technically correct, and that was the best kind of correct. "Now then. It looks like someone else could use a hand."

He had kept half his focus on the building drama not twenty feet away. The young woman sprawled out on the ground had snapped back at some point, an act that gave a raven haired student a moment to interject. He was actually rather surprised when she managed to completely pull the rug out from under the Company Heiress with a single statement, who then stomped off irritated and fuming. The grounded teen had turned…well, to her 'saviour' in this case, only to find said saviour well on her way to the Academy itself. She then collapsed onto her back, muttering something under her breath and staring up into the sky.

As he approached he got a better look at the dejected looking girl, and if there was anything that the Schnee Heiress had said that he agreed with, it was that the depressed-looking girl did look a bit young to be present at the Academy. It was possible that she was just older than she looked, but given what he witnessed so far, she definitely was out of place.

Then again: _Robot_. He lived in a glass house so he shouldn't be throwing stones and all.

The girl was still aimlessly staring towards the sky, even as both he and Jaune were within two-to-three feet of her.

He looked up, angling himself to see what she was seeing.

"Blue sky, bits of fluff, and the occasional bird." His comment seemed to snap the girl out of her daze, and she blinked at the offered hand. "Need a hand?"

"Thanks," It was almost effortless to pull the girl to her feet, "I'm Ruby."

"Talos Vulcan."

Jaune took the opportunity to introduce himself, although the sudden change in demeanour puzzled him for a moment.

"The name's Jaune Arc! Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue - ladies love it!"

He raised a single eyebrow as an amused smile pulled at his lips. That - and the whole act, really - sounded like something straight out of a television serial.

And thanks to that reasoning, he felt no shame in what he was about to say.

" _Do they now?_ "

His attention cut back to Ruby, who looked similarly surprised that they had said the exact same thing, at the exact same time, with the exact same inflection.

Jaune reddened at their response, and reddened further when both he and Ruby laughed.

"They will! Well, I - I hope they will. My mom always says that…Never mind."

At least Jaune could see the hole he was digging himself further into. The embarrassed teen calmed down somewhat when he explained that most of their amusement stemmed from the coincidence though, so all was good. Ruby's continued giggling probably undid most of his efforts though.

The atmosphere became quite as the three of them trekked towards the Academy, something that Ruby seemed to find unacceptable. Ruby announced that she had a 'thing', and then pulled her compacted-form weapon from its holster. He went silent as the weapon unfolded, and he was honestly dumfounded when the blade sank into the stone walkway with frightening ease.

He stared.

"…Is that a scythe?"

He could see that. He could see that _very much so_. Still, Jaune asked - if only to receive some form of confirmation in reality that the weapon displayed was in fact real.

Ruby just beamed at them.

"It's also a customizable High-Impact Sniper Rifle!"

Jaune looked as if the words flew right over his head.

"A…wha?…"

"Trick-Weapon," He supplied as Ruby toggled her weapon back into its compact form, "And we _all_ know un-written Rule number One when it comes to Trick-Weapons…"

He was pretty sure his toothy grin matched Ruby's as they both turned to the confused Jaune.

" _It's also a gun~!_ "

They weren't bad people, and he would be lying if he said that he was confident in his ability to make friends. All the books and videos on Remnant just wasn't the same as honest experience, and everyone that took part in the Vulcan project were at the youngest half again his age.

It was reassuring to see that he wasn't completely messing it up so far.

"Oh. That's cool! I've got this sword," Jaune pulled the blade at his side free, and the sheath followed as he unhooked it from his sword belt and held it by a grip, "And I've got a shield as well!"

It was as he finally got a good view of Jaune's weapon did he finally connect the dots. _Crocea Mors_. Being more-or-less a literal living and thinking weapon, there were many a countless hours he spent on the internet just _pouring_ over weapons. Ancient armaments, military vehicles, mechanised units - if it had an entry on , he was pretty sure he had looked over it. And now here he was, in the presence of a weapon that was a legend in the making.

He very nearly frowned when Jaune referred to Crocea Mors as a hand-me-down - even if it was passed down the Arc line, and Ruby seemed blissfully unaware as she commented that the sword and shield Jaune was holding was a ' _Family Heirloom_ '.

…That brought a whole new train of thought to the station. If he recalled what he knew about the Arc family properly, Jaune was the second youngest out of eight. If tradition was a thing, why was he wielding Crocea Mors and not - say, the eldest? Modernisation, perhaps? Weapons were evolving every day, and Crocea Mors _was_ roughly eighty years old.

He was getting distracted. Although he wasn't the only one as Jaune had shifted from talk about Crocea Mors and was instead talking about motion sickness.

"All I'm saying is that motion sickness is a much more common problem than people let on! It's why I use a sword and shield!"

Nice to see Jaune had considered his bases. It also gave him the chance to re-enter the conversation.

"He makes a fair point."

The duo looked at him, both blinking at the exact same time.

"He does?"

"I do?"

Okay, he understood if Ruby didn't understand him right off the bat, but Jaune as well? It was _his_ weapon set. Unless he was one of those people that picked a weapon archetype and then completely butchered how they were used. Like First Person Shooter players who picked up a sniper rifle and ran about 'Quickscoping' everyone.

He was getting distracted again.

"A Sword and Shield is perfect for a static fighting style; not a lot of movement and standing your ground and such-and-such - perfect for someone who is susceptible to motion sickness. Of course, ever since Spectrum introduced the concept of Trick-Weapons five-or-six decades ago, the 'classics' have sorta fallen out of favour."

"Well I like it!" Ruby then turned her full attention to him - the holsters he was carrying in particular, "What about you? I mean, you've got those sheaths on your back and I see grips and stocks and stuff, but I can't tell what they are."

He smiled, reaching back and drawing a single weapon from its holster with a flourish.

"That…" Jaune eyed the black-and-bronze frame of one of his weapons, "…is _definitely_ a revolver."

He kept the revolver pointed away from the two, even if he was sorely tempted to twirl it.

"Yup. I - unlike many a person - have a healthy respect for the classics." Ruby's head bobbed in agreement - or excitement, he really couldn't tell. "Her name is Gia; older of the twins and second youngest of four."

"Twins?"

The bronze-and-black frame of Tous joined its sister handgun at Jaune's question.

"Twins. Then there's Poté and Stási - a rifle and shotgun, respectively." He returned both revolvers to their holsters. "They all also function as melee weapons, hence the bulk. I've also got some heavy duty arm armour for steadying them and all."

Jaune boggled at the information. Ruby just looked ecstatic at the opportunity of learning about new weapons.

"You…you're _really_ heavily armed."

He couldn't help from smiling. Oh, they had no idea.

"Indeed. But enough about that," He pointed towards the large double doors that they had reached, "We still have to reach the auditorium for the first year speech. We don't want to be late on our very first day, now do we?"

Jaune and Ruby both paled ever-so-slightly, and then nearly scrambled past him in a semi-mad dash.

" _Don't wanna be late!_ "

He smiled, turning to the sign in front of him pointing the way to the auditorium, and walked off in the opposite direction the two were heading.

"Auditorium's _this_ way!"

He managed three steps before the thundering returned in his direction.

* * *

The auditorium was packed as the three of them entered: dozens upon dozens of students were stood in small groups, each small clique whispering in hushed tones. He hummed as he looked around. Weren't auditoriums supposed to have seats or something?

"Hey! Ruby!" His attention by the blonde waving in their direction, and his eyes cut to the teen in question, "Over here! I saved you a spot!"

"Oh! Umm…" Ruby seemed conflicted - or embarrassed, most likely - as her gaze flicked between him and Jaune and the blonde waving her over, "I - I gotta go! See you two after the ceremony!"

She then dashed off without another word. He could have sworn rose petals were left in her wake.

Jaune just watched her dash off, a look of complete bewilderment on his face as the teen absently brushed a petal from his shoulder. It was nice to know that he wasn't seeing things.

Speaking of shoulders, he jostled as a hand came down on one of his own.

"Well, well, well. You didn't tell me you found another friend Tali."

He shrugged the hand off.

"Leo," He turned, vision greeted by a familiar hat wearing Faunus and a redhead whose hair was pulled back into a ponytail, "Couldn't come up with a better nickname?"

The - and he was sure it was - ever-present smile that the Faunus bore widened.

"Well I really couldn't come up with anything better than 'Headphones'. Normally it's redheads I can't think of nicknames for but ehh, what am I going to do?"

"Think a little harder? Jaune, this is Leo," he gestured between the two, "And I wouldn't take everything he says seriously, damn cat has a silver tongue and he's as good at using it as he is at compulsively lying."

The Faunus tipped his chevalier hat in Jaune's direction.

"How do you do? Leopold Perrault-Argent, at your service."

"H-hey." Jaune paused as his gaze flicked between the two. "How do you two know each other?"

"Leo was on the same airship flight into Vale as I was." He turned his attention to the redhead, "Miss Nikos, an honour to meet you."

"And I as well," She smiled as him and Jaune introduced themselves, "Leopold made mention of a friend he made on his journey."

He eyed the Faunus with a sceptical look. The Invincible Girl friends with the Silver Cat?

"What I'd like to know is how Leo knows the four time winner of the Mistral Regional Tournament."

He blinked. It may have only lasted a fraction of a second, but something…something indescribable passed over the girl's expression. That was saying something, given everything in his head useful when it came to identification and whatnot. Perhaps it had something to do with the reputation? Maybe, but it sounded a little too similar to something from a TV serial. Then again, fiction often had _some_ basis in reality.

"Who do you think's been getting his arse handed to him and coming in second in the Mistral Regional Tournament as a result for the past four years?" Pyrrha looked ever-so-slightly sheepish, even if 'the person she's handed his arse to' appeared entirely unconcerned with the whole thing, "Not all that bothered though, Pyrrha pulls off gold much better than I do, and I'm quite fond of silver."

"And as for why we're here talking to you though? Ahh well, you know how it is, us Mistrians have to stick together and all," The Faunus gestured to the air in a vague fashion as he shrugged, "Figured there'd be more of us…but, three's the magic number and all."

"Of course," He plastered a deliberately exaggerated expression of seriousness over his features, even as he extended a hand towards Pyrrha, "We find ourselves amidst strange lands and with people we know not of. An alliance is looking the most profitable course of action."

The Invincible Girl laughed once, and shook his hand.

Jaune just looked a little out of the loop, eyes switching back and forth between him and the other two Mistrians present.

"I'm feeling a little left out here."

"Oh don't worry Blondie, didn't mean to exclude anyone. It's simply a bit of Mistrian humour and whatnot." Jaune mouthed the nickname as Leo turned to the stage, "We're all friends here…well, unless we end up making enemies."

A loud, reverberating tapping filled the auditorium, and everyone in the room found their attention drawn towards the stage. Headmaster Ozpin was stood in front of a microphone stand, with Professor Goodwitch stood at his side.

"I'll…keep this brief. You have travelled here today in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose, direction."

A few students began whispering to one another. So sounding sceptical, other sounding concerned.

He narrowed his eyes. Just where was the Headmaster going with this?

"You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step."

O…kay. If that wasn't cryptic in the least, then there was obviously something wrong with his hearing. From what he could gleam, Headmaster Ozpin saw a lot of people here that didn't truly have a goal in mind - or at least one that didn't exactly match up with what Beacon provided. Eventually they were going to have to think about it though, and find the goal they truly desired sooner or later.

He thought so at any rate, and his thoughts were interrupted when Professor Goodwitch as she took his place on the stage.

"You will gather in the ballroom tonight; tomorrow, your initiation begins. Be ready. You are dismissed."

The students began to file away in the direction indicated, and even as he followed, he couldn't help but think. There was something…off about the tone the Headmaster had spoken in.

* * *

He stretched, a content sigh escaping him as his joints popped. Chrysá Míla was safely stored away for the following morning - not to mention completely and literally off his back. The meal earlier in the evening was something he enjoyed - if only for the flavour, what with being a robot and all. They were all then led into an _absolutely_ massive ballroom. They were then collectively told that curfew was at ten, and then practically left alone.

It had taken a bit of sneaking to remove his coat and day clothing for a long-sleeved set of sleepwear, but he had managed it by being one of the first to do so. All he really did then was watch other people divvy up the room and turn the ballroom into a makeshift camping ground.

He meant that literally in one case; something he found greatly amusing was that someone had set up a small tent in the corner of the ballroom. Him though, he was completely fine sat against a far wall, with a cushioned sleeping bag, a couple of his duffle bags, and a scroll to watch movies on.

If there was one grand advantage to his…hearing aid, then it was the surround sound with a wireless link to any device he owned.

 _[Do you really think you have a chance against us, Mr Cowboy?]_

 _[Yippy-ki-yay, motherf-]_

"Umm…"

The film was paused with a tap on the scrollscreen, and a quick turn of a dial on his headset cut off the connection to the scroll itself.

He looked up, and was greeted by a pyjama clad Ruby.

"Ruby," The scroll was placed on one of the duffle bags, "No sister with you this time?"

That was something that had surprised him. There had been a bit of a commotion earlier, and it was something he couldn't help overhearing. They weren't exactly keeping the whole thing to themselves anyway, and he could honestly admit that his mind had come to a stop for a brief moment when Yang - he should keep her name in mind - had literally dragged her sister off to socialise. Sure, the massive difference between the two had initially thrown him off, but there were things such as half-sister or sisters-in-law.

It would have been heart-warming if he didn't watch it happen as it quickly became amusing with his own two eyes. Fate just seemed to be laughing itself silly whenever Ruby and the Schnee Heiress ended up within line-of-sight of one another.

Speaking of sisters: she wasn't behind him was she? A quick glance told him that no, there wasn't an energetic blonde about to surprise him for her own amusement.

"You know my sister?"

Hmm…How could he word this in the least embarrassing manner possible?

…

…Ahh, screw it. He pointed in the direction she had walked over from.

"You were kinda…you weren't exactly…quiet," Ruby seemed quite shocked about that little fact, if her wide eyes were any indication, "I'm actually quite surprised that everyone in the whole room _wasn't_ watching the little…drama unfold."

Ruby made some choked gasp - or cry, or gurgle, he couldn't really tell - and then slumped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Great, now he felt like a bad-guy.

"It's…" Great. How do you co about consoling a young woman? "…At the very least, you've made an impression?"

That sounded far too much like a question than he intended.

She looked up, and her expression was as pitiable as it was adorable.

"So much for 'normal'…"

His huff of amusement recaptured the teen's attention.

"Look around Ruby," He gestured to different people around the ballroom, "Four guys over there have made a fort with their luggage after using them as barriers for an impromptu wrestling ring. Someone over there's set up a camping tent, complete with cooking pot and fake fire. The Vacuese girl over there is trimming a _bonsai tree_. And last I saw Jaune, he was wondering around here somewhere in an _onesie_. From personal experience, being normal seems to be quite boring."

And that was without mentioning just what exactly _he_ was.

"You included?" Ruby points to his head, or rather the 'headphones' he wore, "I haven't seen you take them off, or readjust them, or anything."

He guessed it was time to see how well the alibi could hold up; part of it anyway.

"Ahh, about that - I'm technically deaf. My father's a researcher at Spectrum, and he got cleared to experiment with these to see if I could hear again. If they ever get removed, they'll take two-thirds of my skull with them."

Okay, now he definitely felt like a bad-guy. Poor Ruby looked mortified. The teen had gone slightly pale and seemed almost frozen with her finger still pointing and a - brittle - smile.

"…Sorry."

"Nah, don't be," He waved off the apology, "Wouldn't be right to blame someone who didn't know prior, and aside from the odd look every now and then, no-one's really bothered."

He looked about. This was a far more awkward silence that it should be. A single cough escaped him as he honestly couldn't think of anything to say. A moment later and he picked his scroll back up.

"So…what you watching?"

"Dye Hard."

Cheesy, punny title aside, but it _was_ released during the age where flicks like those thrived. It was also a decent action film.

It also seemed to be an effective icebreaker, and talk about films became talking about general subjects. If anything, he learnt that Ruby had no problems talking to someone that she felt at ease around. It just looked like a standard case of social awkwardness, most likely. Another thing was that the Schnee Heiress was correct in some form: being accepted into Beacon two years early? Not that he could do anything about it, people like Ozpin often worked in stranger and mysterious ways.

Time seemed to fly Ruby rambled on. Half of the time, she had talked about weapons in some form, and any question she asked was met with a part of the carefully crafted alibi from the minds of those that worked on the Vulcan Project.

He hated lying - he really did, but he accepted the reasoning listed by his father about race relations.

The loudspeaker crackled to life, and a tired sounding voice announced that it was curfew time.

"Ruby," he pointed to one figure in particular wandering about, "Your sister's wandering about. It might be best before she sees you here and comes to her own conclusions."

Amusingly, Ruby seemed to instantly know what he meant. He guessed he was pretty accurate with how he imagined Yang's personality. Ruby practically shot up from the ground and began jogging off in that particular direction.

She threw one last cheery wave over her shoulder.

"Good luck tomorrow!"

The lights flickered off one by one, and after a second though he switched his scroll of. Even as he reclined into a comfortable sleeping position his mind went over the last thing he asked her: Why did she want to be a Huntress?

She wanted to be like the heroes of old; Hunters and Huntresses of legend. To help those in need and make the world a better place.

Most people would see her as far too idealistic - and a few people had already probably said so. But he couldn't say anything though; not without being the pot as it called the kettle black.

He was here for the very same reason.

* * *

 _ **Next Round - Chapter 3: "The Emerald Woodland"**_


	3. Chapter 2

_**Calibre of a Forged Soul - Chapter Two: "The Emerald Woodland"**_

* * *

The Emerald Forest - he reckoned - definitely lived up to its moniker. From where he was stood on the Beacon Cliffs, the area as nearly just an _ocean_ of green canopy. Forget trying to spy the ground, he could barely see the mountains on the horizon.

The morning has been…well, it had actually been more chaotic than he estimated; there had been near-anarchy as students shot out of their sleep with cries of 'waking up late' before dashing about to gather their things.

It was definitely hilarious to watch, given he was ready to move before dawn break. Got to love internal alarm programs.

Then there were a number of little dramas all over the place in the locker room. Ruby and Yang were having some hushed sisterly discussion, probably. Jaune was wandering about in a slight huff, irritated about his locker number or something. And then there was the Schnee Heiress attempting to persuade Pyrrha into working together.

Then Jaune interrupted and ended up pinned to a wall. He really wanted to know how that happened.

The crackle of the speakers stopped anything else from occurring - unfortunately - and instructed all initiates to the Eastern Beacon Cliffs.

Which is where he was stood; an errant glance down the 'line' trailing behind him brought every initiate into view. His feet tapped the metal grate he was stood on.

The sounds of a throat clearing caught everyone's attention, and Headmaster Ozpin took a small drink from the mug he was holding.

"For years, you have trained to become warriors…and today, your abilities will be evaluated in the Emerald Forest."

 _That_ , he could gather.

"Now, I'm sure many of you have heard rumours about the assignment of 'teams'. Well, allow us to put an end to your confusion. Each of you will be given teammates… " Professor Goodwitch readjusted her glasses as she glared, "… _today_."

"These teammates will be with you for the rest of your time here at Beacon. So it is in your best interest to be paired with someone with whom you can work well." The Headmaster looked over each and every one of them. "That being said, the first person you make eye contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years."

That line would've been far more intimidating if he didn't already know how Beacon formed their teams. It was even less so due to his…unique circumstances. Still, he could understand the outburst he overheard from Ruby. It may be 'practice' for the whole Hunter team concept, but a four year commitment to someone you may have never even met before with no choice in the matter?

It was something he still had a little trouble wrapping his mind around.

"After you have partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest. You will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path…or you _will_ die."

 _Hmm…_ There was imposing the gravity of the situation on a person, and then there was _that_.

"You will be monitored and graded through the duration of your initiation, but our instructors will not intervene. You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path containing several relics. Each pair must choose one and return to the top of the cliff. You will guard that item to your fullest extent - and will be graded appropriately. Are there any questions?" Ozpin paused for a moment, and seemingly completely ignored Jaune's raised hand. "Good! Now, take your positions."

The first initiates were launched, even as Jaune stumbled over his questions. Things weren't exactly adding up in his mind when it came to the Arc teen. A 'Landing Strategy' was basic Hunter terminology - the word 'improvised' went unspoken though, there was no need to mention it if everyone knew what you were on about. Not to mention his spatial awareness was sorely lacking. Couldn't he _hear_ the people next to him being launched into the sky?

Yang threw a cheery wave in his direction, and then she was gone. Ruby looked somewhere in between embarrassed and apologetic, before she too was flung into the air.

Guess Yang managed to wheedle everything out of her sister then. Best prepare for future talks with the elder sister.

It was almost comical when Jaune was finally catapulted into the air, and he couldn't quite stop himself from watching in bewilderment as the teen flailed as he flew.

"Mister Vulcan."

The sound of the Headmaster speaking his name had him focusing on the two teachers.

"As The Vale Council, Spectrum, and your father made clear: due to your…specific circumstances, you will not be placed onto a team. Based on how I believe how the 'Persona Initiative' could be fulfilled to earn optimal results, it would be best if you remained an Independent Student - so to speak; someone who can interact with _all_ the teams that will be formed."

He just had to deal with the fallout and stigma of being said Independent Student. Maybe it would've just been easier to enter Beacon as a robot instead.

"I guess I am to avoid the other initiates, then?"

Ozpin merely nodded at his question.

"Yes," The Headmaster turned to look out towards the Emerald Forest, "However, it would be best if you observed as many of those as you could. You will have to fight alongside any four of them at any given time. It would be best to familiarise yourself with how each one fights."

He hummed, and then drew _Gia_ and _Tous_ from their holsters.

"Understood, Headmaster."

Ozpin smiled. It was far more enigmatic than a casual smile should've been.

"Very well. Let's see you in action."

His knees bent ever-so-slightly, and a second later he was airborne.

* * *

 _Come on._

The first tree shuddered when his feet met it, and then snapped in two when he kicked off.

 _Get above the treeline._

An errant branch threatened to clothesline him. _Ventmèche_ whistled through the air, and the branch didn't even have time to start its fall before he body checked it out of his way.

 _Blondie's going to get himself killed._

Another tree groaned as his feet connected with the bark. He looked up, and the second he spent thinking told him that the tree was tall enough to get a good bird's eye view. Armour encased feet cracked the bark as he defied gravity and ran up the tree.

One arm lashed out when he neared the top, fingers digging in as he span around a branch and bled momentum. The blue of the sky filled his vision as he searched for who he was looking for. Jaune was a good guy - if a little sheltered - but given what he saw in the jump, Blondie wasn't going to land in one piece without help.

 _There._

Briefly - very briefly - he wondered how someone could get that much distance simply by flailing. That thought was thrust to the side when he realised that there was _so much_ distance between the two.

For a very, very brief moment, his mind grasped at nothing.

 _ **-Bang!-**_

The crack of gunfire was quickly ignored in favour of watching a red-and-gold coloured missile sail straight past him, following Jaune's floundering form into the distant canopy.

 _One._

 _Two._

 _Thr-_

… _ **thunk…**_

"… _thank you…_ "

If his Semblance wasn't as active as it was, he was pretty sure Jaune's words would have been completely inaudible. A very, very familiar voice returned the appreciation.

" _I'm sorry!_ "

The breath he released was nearly painful, and a wry grin formed as he breathed in. A second later and he jumped off the tree, fingers gripping into the bark as he descended to slow him down. Blondie was out of danger of smearing the ground with his body, and would no doubt appreciate just who would be his partner when she went looking for her weapon.

Armoured feet connected with the soft ground, kicking up some dust as dirt as they did so.

"Eep!"

He pivoted, turning towards the sound as a hand went to Ventmèche's hilt. Sliver eyes met brown, and a couple of seconds passed as he forced himself to relax. The hand that was reaching for said hilt instead went to the back of his head, an act that tilted his hat forward.

The silence was quickly becoming awkward, he reckoned. Best break it before it became unbearably so.

"Hello there! Name's Leopold," He blinked, and extended a hand to the shaken girl when it clicked that she had fallen over in surprise, "Partners?"

She stared at the offered hand for a couple of seconds, smiled, and grasped it with both her own.

"Thanks," He had to take care _not_ to send her flying when he pulled her up - rabbit ears bobbing in the air as he did so, "I'm Velvet."

He watched as she reached down, plucking her weapon out from under the leaves he had scattered in his decent. The silver-and-green Gun-Stave had the Beacon emblem stamped on a flat area on both sides.

That was interesting. Why would a student be wielding a rental weapon?

Bah. Not important. Besides, he was her partner now, and God knows how long it would take before they reached wherever these relics were.

"Nice to meet you Velvet. Now then, Ozpin said north…so…" The memory of the sky and sun let him orientate in the proper direction, "…that way. Let's get going, shall we?"

* * *

The forest was one great big blur as she dashed through the woodland, evading all manner of obstacles with her Semblance. The majority of which was out of both instinct as one thought looped over and over again.

 _Gotta find Yang! Gotta find Yang gotta find Yang gotta find…_

"Yang!? Yaaaang!?"

Oh, this was bad; this was really, _really_ bad. Another thought nearly caused her to miss a jump over a log. What if she couldn't find her? What if someone else found her first? Come on; she had to think! _Think_! Who else did she know in this school?

Well, there was always Jaune. He was nice; He was funny. She didn't think he was very good in a fight though. Nothing against Jaune as a person though! She just thought…yeah. What about Blake? So mysterious, so calm…plus she liked books! That…came with own set of problems. She wasn't all that confident in her ability to hold a conversation with her, for one. Talos maybe? He was alright! Sure, he was…a bit…odd. But he was cool and didn't mind when…she…babbled on…and stuff. She hadn't seen him in the jump though; he could be _anywhere_.

A flash of white caught her eye, and she could feel her heels digging into the ground as she skidded to a halt.

 _Don't look up don't look up don't look up_ \- she looked up.

The silence lasted a grand total of three seconds before Weiss turned and stomped off in the opposite direction.

The world shattered again with a great crash, and she slumped where she was stood.

"We're supposed to be teammates…"

* * *

Travelling by tree was actually surprisingly fun when you got into the rhythm of things. Although given that he could think at speeds far faster than a normal human, maybe he just had a far easier time finding the next branch he could hop onto before he kicked off from the one he was stood on.

His feet connected with another branch as he brought himself to a stop. Other students were partnering up at a rapid pace - even if he hadn't managed to witness them doing so in person. The Semblance he possessed helped in that regard.

Speaking of Semblance…

He crouched on the branch, eyes drifting shut as the world was blanketed out.

 _:: Semblance: Activate. ::_

A resounding, gong-like sound reverberated through his mind following the trigger words, and the world _exploded_ into colour from behind closed eyelids. Colours vaguely relevant to the existences that exuded Aura completely filled his sudden three-hundred-and-sixty 'vision'. An 'Aura Radar' his father had likened it to. Sure, it wasn't super speed, or hyper regeneration, but being able to detect _everything_ in a hundred metre radius was nothing to sneeze at. Doubly so seeing as that no one on the Vulcan Project had managed to find anything that could block it, artificial or natural.

With eyes closed, there was nothing more than colours that blurred together, and nothing but _green_ in anyone's vison was bound to be overwhelmed. Eyes open however, and both visions overlapped: Everything in line of sight had their Aura conform to the proper shape, and anything not in his field of vision he could 'sense' their shape.

It didn't make sense, but Aura and anything to do with it made little logical sense anyway. That was what it felt like, so that was what he was calling it.

And exactly like radar, he could detect anomalous entities on a backdrop.

In this case, it was a red humanoid blob and a white humanoid blob amidst a sea of vaguely outlined green on the very edge of his senses.

Hopping between trees silently though, was another matter. Still, stealth practice paid off - after weeks of having the whole concept pounded into his head. The red he recognised. Spending a couple of hours chatting to the one it belonged to made sure of that. The white though, he wasn't completely sure - though based on how the universe liked to act in its strange and wondrous ways, he could make an educated guess.

Ruby's Aura flared for a brief moment, and then she practically _shot_ out of his sense radius.

Guess _someone_ had super speed.

Speaking of speed, he moved just a little bit faster as a dozen more anomalies crept into sense. The only way he could describe them would be similar to great fissures that interrupted the Aura of the very land.

There was a difference between not being able to detect anything, and being able to detect _literally_ nothing.

 _Poté_ made nary a sound as the rifle was pulled from its holster, the frame expanding to its full form. Slots on the top of the rifle opened and the two halves of a scope deployed near instantly before connecting together. The Schnee Heiress' Aura was visibly flickering now.

"…Fear isn't all that conductive to your survival, Heiress…"

More and more Grimm entered his sense, and at the very least she had calmed a fair amount in the few seconds prior. That still left her to deal with two dozen Class-Five's though. They weren't exactly the most dangerous things, but the saying 'Quantity over Quality' existed for a reason. Stock met his shoulder as the scope 'connected' with his Semblance. Supporting fire was the plan, and he picked one Beowolf at random that the Heiress wasn't facing.

The lever was worked as the Dust inside the Heiress' weapon glowed in his sense, and a second later she - _RED!_

The _I-CORE Heart_ felt as if it seized in his chest when the wave of fire blasted off into the distance, barely missing Ruby as she dropped down from God knows where. _Of all the suicidal-ly stupid moves_ \- he huffed, and returned to his overwatch. Ruby and Weiss were steadily being surrounded as they no doubt argued, by both the pack of Grimm and the increasing fire.

"…Come on…" He drummed his fingers on _Poté's_ grip, "…Get retreating already…"

It was Weiss who made the call - unsurprisingly; she reached out, grabbed Ruby by her cloak, and all but dragged her away from both the fire and the Grimm. A few of them were growling to one another - probably Beowolf-speak for if they should chase after them. Better nip those plans in the bud.

Boots thumped as they struck the ground, and a couple of the Beowolves turned to face him for a brief moment.

He flared his Aura, and the entire pack quickly lost interest in the fleeing pair.

A smile crossed his features.

"Good morning gentlemen," He paused as the Beowolves growled in return, "How are you on this fine day?"

One particular Beowolf roared in response. The pack leader, perhaps? He held the thought for a second longer before turning his attention to the fire; what was a small conflagration was steadily becoming a full-on forest fire, and he sincerely hoped that it wasn't going to get any worse. Perhaps some Cryo-Dust rounds could help?

 _:: Shuffling Playlist. Playlist shuffled, Now Selecting Track. ::_

It set the mood though: A lone Hunter facing down a horde of Grimm in the middle of a firestorm.

 _:: Track Selected; Now Playing: "This Will Be the Day - Magical Girl Remix". ::_

 _Perfect._ The grin became toothy as the song started - and even as the Beowolves made to circle him, he found himself bobbing to the tune.

 _[They see you as small and helpless~!]_

The first Grimm lunged; _Gia_ met the beast in the air, and everything faded out save for the song and din of battle.

* * *

 _Ahh, Hell_. Her limbs groaned as she pushed herself up, and once more did she curse her luck. It was supposed to be an extra credit assignment: patrol duty on the assigned perimeter so the rookies didn't come across anything higher than a Class-Three.

Given that Fox was digging himself out of a nearby tree; it looked like it stopped being an extra credit assignment.

"Team…" She pushed up and a second later she was stood, brushing the dirt from her clothes, "Team Coffee, report in. Everyone still alive?"

Fox just waved her off as he stretched.

"I'm…I'm good."

" _Violissa here. Broken arm, but is nothing Dust-aid cannot help._ "

That was two, now where was the third?

"You there Yatsuhashi?"

"I am."

She nodded, continuing to dust herself off as she looked around. Trees were felled and snapped in pieces like twigs and great gouges were torn into the earth itself.

It looked like a warzone.

"Anyone keep track of how many we got?"

Violissa walked into view, Dust-aid canister glowing and pressed against her upper arm.

" _Forty-six Class-Fives, Thirty-eight Class-Fours, and One-and-one-quarter Class-Threes._ "

"One-and-one-quarter?"

Vio's Skull-like helmet tilted in one direction, 'eyes' glowing a bright, ominous orange.

" _I set it on fire. It wasn't quite half dead when it fled, only mostly quarter._ "

The lantern portion of her weapon dangled over her shoulder from its chain, spinning ever so slightly in place with its mad, skeletal grin.

She clucked her tongue.

"Fox, contact Ozpin," She glared down the trail of destruction the beast left in its wake, "Tell him a Class-Three's breached the perimeter."

* * *

The video feed from the scroll in his hands could only really be summed up in one word, and that word was 'hectic'. Huntsmen and Huntresses - either Human or Faunus - were always in constant motion. The best method of avoiding unnecessary injuries was to _literally_ avoid them. Always flowing, moving from one action into the next, using instincts and skills learned and trained upon over countless hours.

Watching somethi…some _one_ built from metal and oils perform such acts just as well - and in some cases better - than his organic peers was as humbling as it was eye opening. James had hinted over the years that they were working on a similar project, but still even now with all the information provided by Spectrum it was still a large amount to completely absorb and accept.

Had technology advanced so far behind closed doors that this was possible? How many innovations had they created or discovered in the recent years?

Or was it Spectrum itself? The Non-Governmental Organisation was more than that; it was a power unto itself. _Spectrum_ , _PRISM_ , and _RAINBOW_ , three parts of a whole that made the organisation equal in power to the Four Kingdoms that created them.

Boundaries had to be pushed for anything worthwhile to be accomplished - he understood, and the world spanning organisation seemed willing to go even further than the rest of them.

He would have to get into contact with Professor Ritter at some point in the future.

 _ **-Beep!-Beep!-Beep!-**_

His Scroll flickered, replacing the multiple camera views with the last thing he wished to see during the initiation.

 _Class-Three perimeter breach._

He stilled - and for one, brief moment, a flood of panic coursed through him.

"Glynda." The panic faded, and a plan of action was already formulating. "Dispatch _Bullhorn One-One_ to support."

It was a dangerous option; a dangerous plan. He was under no illusions that what he was about to do would be brought to the attention of a man that would disapprove wholly. A man that had the backing of a very powerful organisation.

But when was the easy option also the right one? So he typed out two messages: one to be received by forty students currently in the middle of their initiation, and one to be sent to the forty-first. There was only a one word difference, but the outcomes of the two were vastly different.

Mister Vulcan looked to be finishing his current task, and the android was about to receive one more.

* * *

 _[That victory is in a simple soul~!]_

The last Grimm slumped to the ground, body already in the process of dissolving as the music died away. _Gia_ spun almost impossibly fast as he flicked a Round Canister into the air, and a moment later he caught the canister with _Gia's_ cylinder.

Who said you needed a Trick-Weapon to be fancy or stylish?

He looked around; the burnt trees and grass coated in layers of rime were the only indicators that some form of battle had taken place. At least he put the fire out.

Oh well, killing two dozen Class-Five Grimm in under three minutes wasn't bad.

 _ **-Beep-Beep-Beep!-**_

…That was odd. The only people that had access to that particular level of scroll communication were his father and the Headmaster. A single thought brought the message into vision.

 _::_ _ **Ozpin:**_ _Perimeter Breach. Class-Three - Jabberwock. Status - Injured. Location - Tracker Tagged. Objective - DELAY AT ALL COSTS UNTIL ARRIVAL OF AIR SUPPORT. Air Support ETA - [10:00:00]. ::_

A map of the Emerald Forest flickered into his vision. Nice of the Headmaster to include everything from the perimeter borders for the exam, to the locations of the Hunter teams that patrolled said perimeter. The beacon was transmitting that the Grimm was journeying eastbound.

Eastbound, and directly towards where the relics were being kept.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes until air support arrived.

The forest became one big blur as he dashed through the woodland, and his mind kicked into overdrive as he raked his mind for anything he could remember about the Class-Three. Jabberwock; Reptilian in appearance - more 'wingless dragon' than 'iguana' though. Adolescent Jabberwocks were the size of a coach, and the largest recorded adult was the size of a Stork Airship.

Heels dug into the earth as he came across a clearing. Well, less of a clearing and more like a trail of destruction that could only really have been caused by a runaway train.

Or a fully grown Jabberwock. _Brilliant_.

The tracks in the dirt caught his eye though. He didn't consider himself an expert tracker - or a novice one in all honesty - by any means, but given the prominent differences between the left side tracks and the right side tracks, the Grimm was heavily favouring one side. The faint scent of smoke was in the air as well. Whoever injured the thing must be a little bit too obsessed with fire.

At the very least, he now had a physical trail to follow.

The Grimm itself wasn't hard to follow. Between the tracker and the trail of broken forestry, he was actually rather surprised no other team or Hunter patrol came across it. Then again, if the Hunters left the perimeter, then who would be left to guard said perimeter? As much as Ozpin said they wouldn't intervene - it was more along the lines of they _couldn't_ , and he was actually rather surprised the Headmaster had diverted air support at all.

Then again, there were far too many high-profile entrees this year to let them all get injured during the initiation - not to mention the political fallout of such a thing happening.

Perhaps he was overthinking things; he probably was. Students were in danger, so the teachers were sending help.

 _ **-Crack!-**_

 _Hm_? _What was -_ he was twisting long before it entered his sense. Not a Grimm, but the trunk of a great Mosswood tree, thrown back as if it was a mere twig.

He swore he could feel the odd leaf or two brush against his nose as it passed.

That tree could've easily taken off his head if it even so much as grazed him. Aura could stop many things, but several tonnes of wood hitting you at car speeds weren't one of them. For the briefest of moments, he watched the tree sail off behind him, crashing through a few of its smaller brethren and disappearing into the brush. The soft growling that followed shortly after recaptured his attention.

He was right about the Grimm being injured: The majority of its bone white plating was scorched black - and in some places - flaking off into ash. One foreleg was curled up against its body - although the Grimm itself was doing remarkably well at keeping itself propped up with only three limbs, and the tail had been completely severed at the base as a a small, shadowy miasma flowed into the air from the wound in question.

He glanced at the revolvers in his grip.

 _Yeah…_ he was going to need a bigger gun.

 _Gia_ and _Tous_ rasped as they compacted and slid back into their holsters.

 _:: FINGAH: Activated. Left_Arm_Configuration: Sniper. Right_Arm_Configuration: Submachinegun. ::_

The barrels lining up in his arms always produced an 'odd' feeling, and he reckoned that they always would. Still, the barrels lined up, the Receiver Gauntlets lined up, and both magazines were slotted into their respective receivers - even as he had to dive out of the way of a charging Class-Three Grimm. A foot of extra barrel shot from his palm, and he wasted no time in firing off an opening volley. The bullets struck the beast in numerous places, piercing shadowy flesh and cracking bone.

 _Think! Think!_ What else could a Jabberwock do?

It reared back, jaws parted and tongue quivering in the base of its maw. Alarm bells were going off, both literal and metaphorical.

He threw himself sideways, feet scraping against the coarse ground as he fought to remain standing.

Just in time to witness a four foot long, jagged bone shard spear through the great Mosswood he was in front of not even a second ago like a hot knife through butter - still connected to the Jabberwock by a long, chameleon-like tongue.

Jabberwock. Jabber-Wock. It jabbed stuff.

…

…He really, really _wanted to know who the hell named this thing_.

A burst of machinegun fire had the tongue retract, and of course the one time a bladed weapon would be useful he didn't have one! Things could never be easy could they?

The tongue quivered in the base of the maw once more, and this time he was ready; the foot long barrel pointed squarely at the beast's mouth, and a barrage of high calibre rounds was fired off before the Grimm could fire. It wasn't enough to stop the Class-Three from firing its tongue, but it was enough to force a deviation: the bone shard that was aimed to pierce through the centre of his chest instead flew low and to the left, burying itself in the dirt and missing his leg by a good six inches.

The first step he intended to take became a stagger part way through as _something_ coiled around his left leg.

His gaze shot down. The Jabberwock's tongue had wrapped itself around the limb in question. The tongue snapped taut, and time itself seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched the draconian Grimm tense and rear back.

The words left him without thinking.

" _Oh, son of a-_ "

* * *

She glared at the Nevermore _if only it'd stop moving!_

"Think you can make the shot?"

"Hmph! Can I?"

She blinked. Well, it _was_ struggling a lot.

"Can yo-"

 _Oh no…_ Weiss didn't look happy.

"Of course I can!"

* * *

Being sent flying? Not fun.

" _Ow!_ "

Being sent flying and ploughing through a stone structure upon landing? Even worse. Doubly so when he realised he ended up buried beneath a rather large amount of stone.

 _:: Air Support ETA - [7:23:56]. ::_

A growl rumbled in his throat as he _pushed_ up, and the sound of stone grinding on stone echoed around him as the slab of rock was lifted free. He hefted the no-doubt several hundred kilogram slab above his head, eyes flicking left and right. Based on the map he had, he had landed directly - well, _through_ where the relics were supposed to be kept.

He hoped that everyone had picked up their relics by now. It definitely would be quite awkward to have to dig through rubble to find them.

The sounds of snapping trees brought his attention back towards the general direction of where he…came from. The Jabberwock had broken into the clearing and was no doubt scanning for its prey.

" _Oi! You overgrown gecko!_ "

The Jabberwock glared in his general direction.

" _Catch!_ "

The roughly half-tonne stone collided with the Grimm's head, cracking and splintering the beast's bone-like faceplate. Trick weapons were all well and good, but there was something just so…primally fulfilling about breaking in a Grimm's face in with a good old fashioned rock.

He reached down, and pulled another piece of masonry out of the debris that surrounded him. The fact that it was three times as wide as his torso was irrelevant.

"There's plenty more where that came from!"

The chunk of stone went airborne, though the Jabberwock looked to be prepared this time. Its jaw was locked and the bone-shard tip of the beast's tongue quivered.

 _Tous_ was flicked out of its holster almost impossibly fast, held at his hip as he fired a single bullet.

 _ **-Tink!-**_

Now it wasn't just a large stone slab. It was a large stone slab coated with a six inch layer of _solid rime_. Cryo-Dust rounds: Extra strength. Ohh, did he love them. The fired tongue bounced off the makeshift projectile, burying itself into the ground as the Jabberwock received another bone splintering projectile to the head. Shards and stone and ichor arced into the air as the Grimm's head rocketed backwards.

He kept up the assault, _Gia_ and _Tous_ firing Fire and Ice Dust rounds respectively. Fire ate away at the beast's shadowy flesh, and Ice erupted in great barbs outwards wherever they struck. He didn't want to waste this much ammunition, but anything to slow down the Class-Three.

The Jabberwock _glared_ at him, eyes burning with a renewed unholy hatred.

 _:: Air Support ETA - [6:31:07]. ::_

Right…six-and-a-half minutes to go. No pressure or anything.

The bone shard tipped tongue shot overhead as he crouched and span, flicking two more canisters into the twin revolvers as he re-entered his stance.

This was going to be a _long_ six minutes.

* * *

Okay, running up a cliff and cutting off a giant crow Grimm's head at the top? _Awesome_.

Climbing back down the cliff somehow to meat back up with everyone? Not as _awesome_. But still, she managed! Just a couple dozen rounds from _Crescent Rose_ and she was landing back on the lower…cliff…face thing.

She was _so_ going to spoil _Crescent_ when she got back. If she remembered correctly, she still had some of that _really_ nice Atlesian polish packed away somewhere - _ACK!_

"Oh that was so cool!" Yang practically wrapped her in a bear hug and if she kept shaking her as bit like a ragdoll. "My little sis is growing up and kicking Grimm butt!"

"Yang!" _Not in front of everyone!_ "Can't! Breath!"

Her sister let go eventually. Whatever embarrassing _things_ that _someone_ was going to say, was cut off by the cracking and splintering of wood. Everyone looked over and that brown-y bronze-y colour looked familiar…

"…Is that Talos?"

She'd recognise that shotgun anywhere - granted, she hadn't spied anyone else that used one so far, but what puzzled her was that he was spinning it around as he bled momentum, pointing the weapon skywards and facing the direction he had…tumbled in from.

Just in time as a large, _large_ , _LARGE_ Grimm burst out of the treeline - roaring and howling and _they had to help him and_ -

The gun thundered down, crushing the Grimm's skull and driving the beast into the dirt. Momentum carried the Grimm forward and _it flipped_ overhead even as shot after shot rang out. Something lashed out, grabbing Talos and sending him flying.

She winced as he hit the ground, and the cringe remained as he skidded over - face down - to where they were stood.

"Yes?" She had to resist the urge to prod him. "Are…are you okay?"

He mumbled something; something that could have maybe was probably a ' _No_ ', and then he pushed himself up. He looked…like an absolute mess - well, _also_ confused, eyes flicking between everyone and the _massive_ Grimm in the distance - but mostly a mess.

"Didn't you get the alert?"

 _Alert_?

"The alert sent out five minutes ago. What have you been doing?"

"We were…" She sent a look at her 'team'. Everyone else had drawn miniature Scrolls from their pockets and were looking at the screen and _oh_. _Class-Three; avoid at all costs_. She winced, and slowly made to look at the very angry looking Grimm that was very much probably the Class-Three in question. "…kinda busy?"

He blinked once, before looking at everyone once more.

"Evidently."

Okay, she was a little…well, a bit more than a little bit tired, but did they really look that bad?

"You look just as bad as us." Talos frowned when her sister smiled. "And I bet you've been fighting this thing instead of running."

"I _have_ been running - quite franticly in fact, because my life does depend on it." He glanced back at the Grimm, before reaching into his jacked and drawing a can looking - _oh! Ammunition Canister!_ "At least now there are people I can run for my life with."

 _No!_

Everyone was looking at her and _oh God she said that out loud didn't she_?

"Umm, well…" _Come on! Think!_ "…If we run, it might chase us into worse where we can't retreat, or might leave us alone and go after someone else. There might be others in battles and it might interrupt them and…"

She trailed off, confidence faltering at everyone's stares.

"She has a point." She watched as Talos' brows furrowed, and he looked to be debating with himself - even as people glanced at him in surprise. "We don't _have_ to kill it, only delay it. Not to mention that it'll be much easier for Air Support to target the Jabberwock in this nice, large, open area."

"Right! That!"

Talos nodded - and groaned, but readied his shotgun; what was her name? _St_ _a_ _si_? Everyone else readies their weapons too, tired, but determined. Crescent Rose twirled around once, chambering a round as it did so.

The Grimm _roared_ , and the thought of 'delay, not kill' passed through her mind before the battle started.

* * *

 _:: Warning! Aura 'down' to Ten Percent! ::_

Of all the times his 'told' himself about his status, this _was definitely unneeded!_ The tree he had been smashed into by a giant, thick-muscled draconian limb was enough. The brief dimming in his vision and pain _was enough_. He really didn't need _himself_ echoing in his mind how bad the situation was. _St_ _á_ _si_ was driven into the earth stock first as he collapsed onto one knee. As much as he wanted to charge into the fray once more, a breather was something he _really_ needed.

The numerical advantage wasn't helping; in fact it made the whole thing slightly worse. Everyone was tired. Uncoordinated. They worked extremely well in their two teams of four, but all eight of them - _nine_ , he amended - all aiming at one target meant that two-thirds of the time, each team had to pull a member of their own out of a nasty opening caused by someone on the other 'team'.

Jaune lost his balance due to the Jabberwock's stomping generating tremors and Pyrrha had moved to protect the blond, which left Ruby temporarily defenceless in between bursts of speed, and he had to close in and knock the milliseconds-to-fire tongue from spearing her through with _St_ _á_ _si_ , _which_ left him open to be dragon-backhanded into a Mosswood.

 _And_ that would have been the end of him had the Grimm succeeded in shooting its tongue at him, if not for Blake firing her weapon into the beast's shattered skull and pulling the attack off course.

For something that had been half dead for the better part of ten minutes, the Jabberwock was still insanely hardy. Rage - he guessed - must be a hell of an anaesthetic; something the Grimm seemed to have no short supply of.

He pushed himself up - ignoring the foreboding _'Nine Percent remaining'_ sat in the corner of his AR vision, body tensing as he made to charge. Half-a-dozen glyphs formed in-between him and the Grimm, and the moment he stepped on one he was positively _thrown_ forwards. Partway through his enhanced rush he saw caught the eye of the glyph's creator. Blue eyes met his, and in that second he nodded in acknowledgement and thanks.

Weiss nodded back, and then threw herself backwards with a glyph of her own, avoiding the tongue that buried itself a foot into the dirt where she was previously stood.

A hand lashed out as he sped beneath the beast, latching onto its neck and eliciting a guttural cry of pain as he spun around the Grimm. If he were a normal human, he probably would've torn his arm out of its socket, and probably broken all of his fingers due to his grip. But he wasn't, and he held firm until his feet slammed into the Jabberwock's shoulders, _St_ _á_ _si_ jammed and aimed directly between the blades.

" _Just!_ "

 _ **-Bang!-**_

" _Go!_ "

 _ **-Bang!-**_

" _DOWN!_ "

 _ **-Bang!-**_

The Grimm _roared_ in response, and he had to abandon his perch to avoid being flattened by a 'Death Roll'.

This was bad. This was really, _really_ _BAD_.

 _:: Air Support ETA - [0:52:02]. ::_

 _Where was air support_? No humming of the engines, no tag on the map, _nothing_!

He spared a glance at everyone else. To say they looked tired was an understatement. Whilst there was no blood, they were caked in dirt and sweat. Whatever they fought before had really taken its toll out of them - and the Jabberwock only more so. This as it; they were on their last legs and it was time for a hasty retreat…

…Wait. Was that…whistling? He glanced about the battlefield, AR vision desperate to locate the source. There was definitely whistling; almost - but not quite - like the sound half a dozen whistles, in fact.

It sounded al…most…like…

The ichor in his veins felt as if it froze.

" _EVERYONE MOVE!_ " Everyone turned to look at him in complete synchrony, confusion barely visible beneath the fatigue. " _RETREAT!_ "

No one hesitated or questioned his shout. Perhaps it was the panic in his voice, or the speed at which he threw himself backwards and away from the Jabberwock. Those close enough hopped back with all their might, and those with powerful enough weapons used their recoil to get even further back.

The whistling turned into a deafening _screech_ as six Hellfire missiles struck the Class-Three Grimm. He wasn't quite far away enough. The explosions, he avoided; the resulting shockwave? Not so much.

Once again he was forced to eat dirt, and he was just thankful he hadn't hit a tree headfirst on the 'journey'.

[ _Direct hit! Sorry I'm late kids!_ ] The engine roar - and he once again found himself lost as to why he hadn't heard it before - filled the clearing as the _Bullhorns_ configured VTOL flew overhead. [ _You all alright down there?_ ]

 _Gah_.

"Vulcan to…" The sky came into view as he rolled himself over. What was the Callsign again- "…Four-Seven-Niner; we're all in one piece. Nothing a hot meal and a good night's sleep won't fix."

He pushed up and on his elbows, getting a glimpse at just how dishevelled they all were.

"Bath or a shower would be equally appreciated. Several, preferably."

The Pilot's laughter would have been far more reassuring if she wasn't doing so as the _Bullhorns'_ Chain gun tore into her target. Hmm…he wondered how much prodding it would take to get his father to greenlight having something like that installed into his arms. The lot in the labs would have an absolute ball designing them.

[ _Pretty sure you'll get exactly what you want when you get back to Beacon._ ] The Grimm had - finally - made an attempt to retreat, something Four-Seven-Niner was having absolutely none of. [ _Just let me deal with the reptile here and I'll pick you up. You've got an exemption from Ol' Ozpin himself given this Class-Three accident._ ]

 _Well_ \- he slumped back to the ground - _that was anticlimactic_. Ten minutes of frantic fighting for survival, only for air support to fly in and steamroll what was terrorising them. It may have been his objective - but still, he would've liked to do more damage.

Oh well, mission accomplished and all that.

"You alright?"

Gold entered his vision, and the toothy grin that Yang bore only widened when his arm feebly rose, thumb pointed skywards for a couple of seconds before the limb crashed back into the dirt. God, why did everything _hurt_?

 _Everyone_ was pretty beat up. Jaune and Ren were both collapsed like he was. No doubt that Jaune's majorly stationary defensive combat preference meant he took a few more hits than anyone else, and Lie Ren the most fragile out of everyone present. Nora - he thought he heard her name right - was sprawled out next to the jade clad teen, although she was far more energetic - almost as if she hadn't just fought for survival for the past few minutes. Blake, Pyrrha, and Weiss were all still standing, no doubt still on lookout if any other Grimm suddenly decided to turn up. He could still see how tired they were though, whether it was through the odd sway every few seconds or how they lost focus for a moment or two.

Yang was…well, she was here, and where did Ruby wander off to-

 _ **-Thwump-**_

Both Ruby and Crescent Rose hit the ground in a single motion, her slumping to the ground in sheer fatigue and her weapon digging a good few inches into the soil blade-first. Probably for the best if he inched away a little bit. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ruby, but that blade was _seriously_ sharp; like, 'You could cut silk by dropping the cloth on the edge' sharp.

Still, they had all survived. Tired, ragged, hungry, and probably going to sleep _like_ the dead, but they _weren't_ dead.

He blinked at the gauntlet encased hand, looking about and noting that everyone else was getting ready to board the descending VTOL.

"Cheer up. At least we're all okay."

 _:: Aura Levels: Three Percent. ::_

"Yeah…" He accepted the hand up as the _Bullhorns_ touched down. Pushing just how close he came to death out of his mind. Sometimes, he really wished he didn't know the numbers. "We're all okay."

"Cool." Yang was completely oblivious to his thoughts, and the warning klaxons were going off again at the blonde's mischievous glint. "Now what's this I know about you spending time with my sis last night?"

For some strange - unfathomable - reason, the best response his brain could come up with was to release a heavy, exasperated sigh.

Ruby's wide eyed, panicked expression was going to make this worse, and his mind recommended the addendum that he also palm his face.

" _Yang!_ "

* * *

The auditorium looked _vastly_ different when the atmosphere was darkened. Great spotlights illuminated the stage, drawing the audience's attention to whoever was stood there. And what an audience it was; from members of staff to second, third, and fourth years, they were all present as the new generation of Huntresses and Huntsmen were formed into teams.

He was in the audience as well, far back and hidden in the shadows of a large pillar. Some students gave him odd looks, but he reckoned they were deserved.

" _Russel Thrush. Cardin Winchester. Dove Bronzewing. Sky Lark. The four of you retrieved the black bishop pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Cardinal, led by…Cardin Winchester!_ "

The four armoured teens swaggered off the podium stage, leaving less than half of the first years to have their teams and leaders announced.

Idly, he wondered just how team names were formed. Did the Headmaster come up with them? Was there software that created them?

" _Citri Aerlight. Saffrina Aimer. Tiffany Blauadel. Lisabelline Milost. The four of you retrieved the white queen pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Celeste, led by…Citri Aerlight!_ "

The next team strode off stage, the four young women looking completely confident in themselves and each other.

" _Jaune Arc. Lie Ren. Pyrrha Nikos. Nora Valkyrie. The four of you retrieved the white rook pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Juniper._ "

Juniper. _JNPR_. If whatever naming convection the Teams followed, then the Leader was going to be…

" _Led by…Jaune Arc!_ "

Jaune looked absolutely poleaxed; even more so than Miss Scarlatina did when she was announced as her Team's leader. Arc didn't even resist when Pyrrha's friendly shoulder bump sent him sprawling on his rear. The audience laughed, and there was absolutely no malice in the cacophony. No doubt there were a lot of people in this room that felt the exact same in Jaune's shoes.

" _Méihuā Shān. Natsumi Sōgen. Langdale Forrest. Scáthach Glenn. The four of you retrieved the black rook pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Luminous, led by Langdale Forrest!_ "

Four more of his classmates accepted their team and leader, leaving four young ladies as the remaining first year students.

He frowned; what were the chances that this was intentional?

" _And finally: Blake Belladonna. Ruby Rose. Weiss Schnee. Yang Xiao Long. The four of you retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team RWBY. Led by…Ruby Rose!_ "

 _Well_ …if anyone had the right to be surprised, then Ruby took first place. Poor girl looked like a deer caught in the headlights, even as Yang bounded across to embrace her sister in a hug. Weiss, she…she didn't look happy, and Blake was completely unreadable. Still, the entire auditorium was in high spirits, everyone cheering as the final first year team took their place amongst their peers.

He wanted to be down there, congratulating his…his _friends_. They had taken the first steps towards their dreams.

But then there would have been too many questions; questions he didn't feel comfortable or capable of answering without someone coming away suspecting _something_. Why was he still present if he wasn't on a team? Was he going to attend without one? How? What strings had he pulled with the Headmaster to get that to work?

There were far more questions than that, but listing them all wouldn't help.

So he hung back. It would be far easier to just wait until the Headmaster would initiate phase two of the ' _Persona Initiative_ ' and then he would have evidence on hand to back him up. Besides, it would be more fun to just appear tomorrow in class as if he had appeared alongside everyone else on stage.

More chaos that way. _Fun_.

He kicked off the pillar, smiling as the audience continued to cheer for the newly formed teams. A Scroll was pried loose, and the device displayed a simple map of the first year sleeping quarters.

It was getting late, he was still absolutely shattered, and he had a room to find and a bed to drop into.

* * *

 _ **Next Round - Chapter Three: "Class is IN session"**_


	4. Chapter 3

_**Calibre of a Forged Soul - Chapter Three: "Class is IN session"**_

* * *

" _RAINBOW-One_ to _Leprechaun_ : area has been secure. Over."

[ _Leprechaun copies, RAINBOW-One. Think you can get us into the system?_ ]

Apart from a couple of monitors that had taken a few bullets in the firefight, many of them remained active, each one displaying information that he did not care about and only somewhat understood. He walked up to the monitors, looking around for an access port of some kind.

"Carmine."

Two heads turned in his direction, faces obscured by their completely concealing helmets. The urge to massage his temples entered his mind for a brief, brief moment.

"Carmine _B_. Help me with the body." The _PRISM_ soldier nodded once and then made his way over, hands wrapping around one side of the recently deceased Operator. "Keep your eyes open _A_."

Carmine A readied his rifle, and kept the weapon pointed on the sole entrance to the room.

A wince passed beneath his armoured cowl as the Operator's bone-like mask clattered to the ground, revealing a face belonging to someone barely out of their teens. God, the boy couldn't be any younger than the eldest of his sisters; gunned down the moment they had breached to room and found a handgun pointed directly at them.

He couldn't regret what he did, because if he didn't one of the Carmines would have been going home in a body bag. Still, the cadaver was covering half a dozen ports, and it wasn't long before he had fished into one of his armour's many pouches for a small, rectangular device that was slotted into a port a second later.

[ _Accessing systems now; you might want to get comfortable, RAINBOW-One._ ]

He glanced at the deceased Faunus once more, and considered running a background check. If there was a family that they belonged to, then they at least deserved to know the fate of their own.

Even if they were a terrorist that had nearly ended his teammate's life.

" _Sir?_ " The voice of the last member of his Strike Team crackled over his comms, " _You might want to see this._ "

"Set up a vid-com; link it to your helmet."

Almost instantly, a window expanded in his vision, taking up roughly a quarter of his sight with the live imagery from the Helm-Cam belonging to [ _Carmine, C_ ].

For a brief moment, all that existed in his mind was confusion. Confusion gave way to white hot anger, the emotion rearing its head for a few seconds before it faded; replaced by a sensation of a cold, biting displeasure.

Even now, that _damned_ name still followed him.

" _Schnee Gunworks, Sir._ " The emblem of the SDC's weapons development branch filled the camera window. " _Rifles, PDWs, handguns; all top of the line. There are guys in PRISM that'd kill for equipment this good._ "

That much was true: no matter how much he wished to push the Schnee name out of his mind, he would readily admit that they made some extremely good kit.

So how had White Fang gotten a shipment large enough to outfit a battalion?

"Serial numbers?"

" _Filed off, Captain._ " Carmine C turned the weapon over, revealing a scratched, worn down patch of grey that stood out starkly against the gun's porcelain aesthetics. " _Checked half a dozen of them already; all filed down to the metal._ "

So that left the easy method of tracing their supplier down out of the question.

" _That's not all that's down here, Sir._ " The display shifted, " _There's also these._ "

He could physically feel the effort behind his next blink. Why in Hell did White Fang possess equipment from the defunct Merlot, of all places?

[ _Download's complete, RAINBOW-One. It's best to make your to the LZ for pickup._ ]

He glanced around the room once more.

"Anything of interest?"

[ _It'll take a while before we can decrypt it. But we're not expecting much._ ]

As such were the natures of a Cell based Organisation. Each one was just a single jigsaw piece in the grand scheme of things.

But now they were one jigsaw piece closer. _Silver linings_ \- he supposed.

"Alright men, time to get moving." He shouldered his rifle, and made for the exit. " _RAINBOW-One_ and _PRISM Team-Alpha_ ; proceeding to Extraction Point Alpha. Out."

After receiving a trio of 'affirmatives', they began to make their way out of the complex. The facility was a hovel outside of the Kingdom's protection, so the Grimm would come a-hunting sooner or later, drawn by the lingering terror in the air left by the deceased former occupants.

 _PRISM Team-Bravo_ would have torched the entire place to the ground long before that though. Half an hour, and this base went from [ _Threat Level: Blue_ ] to [ _Target: Neutralised_ ]. An hour or two after that and it would be as if the place had never existed.

 _All in all_ \- he thought with grim amusement - _just another day in the life of RAINBOW Operative Regen Glatteis_.

…He _really_ needed some leave-time. Vale was looking pretty nice this time of year; nice and far away from Schnee Dust Company and anything to do with it. The urge to groan was there, but he resisted; he had thought it was all behind him, yet a single image the family's emblem was enough to bring him back to _that_ day, seven years ago.

 _First_ thing he was doing was requesting it the moment he had been debriefed.

* * *

[ _A Jabberwock._ ]

He winced, and once more he was thankful that he wasn't speaking to his father in person where he would be hit full force by the infamous 'Pressure Field'.

[ _A Jabberwock. In the Beacon Initiation._ ]

Yet despite that, shame and remorse gnawed away at his innards.

[ _A Jabberwock. In the Beacon Initiation. That you dragged a quarter of your classmates into fighting._ ]

"…It wasn't _that_ bad…"

Another wince passed through him, _definitely_ the wrong thing to say.

[ _I've looked at the readouts. I've read the report. I've watched the footage. Three Percent Talos. One lucky hit and you would've been spread all over the ground. All. Over. The. Ground._ ]

There was concern behind the restrained tone of his father's voice, he knew. There was no inflection; no rising, or lowering, or anything. But just like how there was concern being shackled away, so to was anger. The latter outweighed the former though; he was the only thing his father was concerned about, and there were half a dozen reasons behind fury. He had seen what followed - and sometimes, been on the receiving end of - when the annoyance stopped being kept internal.

His father was looking to go on a warpath; all the man needed now was the right target.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"It was Ozpin's fault."

So he threw the most probable person in a position of power responsible for the entire mess under the bus.

Call it cowardice, but he was never in the most stable frame of minds whenever he had to face his dad's wrath.

[ _Oh I know._ ] _Aaaaaand_ there goes his lifeline. [ _The man was surprisingly forthcoming with his 'orders'. I'll still be having some proper words with the wonderful wizard of Beacon in the near future, but it's nice that he was upfront about everything._ ]

An expectant silence stretched out, the _I-CORE Heart_ rumbling lowly in his chest.

"…I'm sorry." He leant on his room's windowsill, looking out and over the morning Vale city skyline. "I'm sorry for worrying you, but I'm not sorry for intervening. There is a lot of 'what ifs': What if the Grimm found some other team? What if Air support was delayed? What if the Class-Three stirred up more Grimm and downward spiralled the entire initiation? I'm training to be a Hunter; I _want_ to be a Hunter. If I stood back and let it run rampart…then anything could have happened. I…I didn't want anyone else to get hurt. I _couldn't_ let anyone else get hurt."

The silence stretched on, an awkward moment as he knew his father was coming to an ultimatum.

[ _I…I know._ ] The sheer tiredness in his father's voice hurt more than the anger, and once more he couldn't understand why. [ _And that's what irritates me._ ]

His father wasn't happy, not by a long shot. But at least he understood; he hoped.

[ _Although if the next thing I hear from Beacon is that you got into an arm wrestling match with a Tyrannovrn, I'll recalibrate your taste simulators into 'everything tastes like Blackburn's cooking' for a month. Again._ ]

The processing mechanism that passed for his stomach roiled at the thought.

"Would it help if I mention I'd win? Tyrannovrn have underdeveloped arms."

[ _Smartarse._ ] There was shuffling in the background, and he was sure his father had just stood up from his office chair. [ _Anyway, got to go. Lot in the Labs have forwarded a tentative list of names-slash-designations for the Giant Armours, and I have to explain why we're not going to give them designations such as 'Waggleton' or 'Tallylicker' or whatever else is on the list._ ]

His eyes lit up; there's a story here _somewhere_.

"Oh?"

[ _Atlas Branch received a 'generous' donation from the Schnee Dust Company. A dozen Atlesian Knight-Two-Fifty 'Giant Armours'; we're getting half of them._ ] The faint hint of disgust in his father's tone made him smile. [ _Lot in the Labs have been ecstatic, and have been pretty much brainstorming what they want to do._ _After the transfer, of course._ ]

His ichor ran cold.

"…transfer?"

[ _Oh~hoho yes._ ] Oh God he could practically _hear_ the lazy smirk as it formed on his father's face. [ _Council though it was a bit silly that we're all in Mistral and you're in Vale. So everyone here's getting a transfer. They're new labs and everything, all ten minutes away from Beacon by Airship._ ]

Oh…why. Oh God why.

[ _Nice change of scenery…budget increases…new projects to develop…and the opportunity to beat some bloody sense into my son's head the next time he does something as monumentally stupid as fighting a Class-Three Grimm on foot. Really couldn't ask for a better job. Anyway, got to go! Bye!_ ]

His father hung up before he could get a word in edgewise, and for a minute or two the only company he had was the droning tone of the disconnected call. Relief and despair warred with each other as he stared at the phone in his hand.

A frown formed, and then he tossed the device onto the bed.

The whole thing was out of his control anyway. Much like his timetable: Two hours of _Grimm Studies_ , followed by a two hour session called _General Period_ separated cleanly in half by an hour lunch, and capping off the day was _Combat & Duelling Class - Singles_.

All in all, it seemed like a pretty good day: Sun was shining, sky was clear, classes didn't start for another hour or so, and family talk aside he was starting to look on the bright side of life.

 _ **-FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!-**_

The loud, _shrill_ \- but mostly _loud_ \- ear piercing sound of a blown whistle caused him to flinch.

What the hell was whoever-lived-next-door thinking? Blowing whistles at eight in the morning?

Ah well. It wasn't all that important. Besides, he was already up and dressed, clad in Beacon's Academy uniform. White dress shirt, red tie, black trousers, and capped off with a black blazer with a gold lining. The blue vest he did without though; thing was an eyesore.

 _ **-FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!-**_

Really, it was a good thing he was up and ready to leave long before whoever was whistling was…well, whistling. Whoever was on the receiving end of that noise was most certainly _not_ going to be happy.

He swiped the messenger bag off from where it hung over his desk chair, and made his way out of the room.

That - he smiled to himself - was another distinct advantage to being what he was: he got his own borderline apartment to himself. Each 'room' contained a kitchenette and sitting area for the entire team that lived in them, and then split off into a shared bathroom, as well as any number of personal bedrooms depending on the gender balance of the given teams. Teams composed of entirely one gender got one big sleeping area-slash-room, those with two of each had two rooms to be shared, and an odd count just simply had four smaller personal rooms for each student.

His was of the latter variety, and he kept the three other unused rooms free in case there was a disagreement in a team and they needed a place to slink off for the night.

The Scroll in his grip span as it went airborne, before he snatched it out of the air and was activated as he swiped a pear out of the fruit bowl. He didn't know how long the team he was looking for would turn up, so he could do with something to whittle away the time with.

Student Accommodation itself was split into four buildings; one for each year, with each one possessing a single, large communal area. There were seating areas all over the place, one wall was pretty much _made_ out of television screens with games consoles beneath them, another corner of the room contained a few of the larger varieties of musical instruments, and another led outside to what was no doubt a very large clearing-slash-park and probably a few open training areas.

He took a seat, bit into the pear, and activated the Scroll. The device blinked to life, booting up in seconds and displaying a small desktop half covered in shortcuts. He tapped the icon labelled _PI_Team_Schedules_ , and focused on the Team listed as his 'Day One' team.

 _VLAT._ Team Violet: Velvet Scarlatina, Leopold Perrault-Argent, Akane Fukui, and Thwickett Marche. The profiles he had been given were absolutely barebones - something he didn't argue against, privacy and confidentiality and all that. Still, what didn't stand out about the team weren't their skills, or their weapons, or their histories.

No, what made them stand out was that Team Violet was an all Faunus Team: a Rabbit, a Cat, a Fox, and a Hare, all on one team - and all unfortunately - one _big target_.

He could see it now. It wasn't a matter of 'if', but of 'when' Team Violet was the first target of discrimination. It wouldn't be too farfetched of him to estimate who would be the first victim: Leopold was the only one he had personal experience with, and he was safe in admitting that the Silver Cat would put any racism towards himself down the moment he used that silver tongue of his.

Thwickett was one of the Faunus that a number of other students - he grimaced at the thought of working with Team Cardinal in the near future - had attempted to browbeat into submission. The Hare Faunus endured the mocking with a practiced patience until they got bored, and each one of the tormentors had ended up suffering a multitude of embarrassing accidents roughly half an hour later.

Then there was Akane, whom he had the easiest time believing in when it came to defending himself. Lark had taunted the Faunus with a thinly veiled jab at Akane's feminine appearance, and ended up flat on his arse after being punched in the face.

But back to the matter at hand, that left Velvet as the most likely and unfortunate target. The girl may be the team's Leader, but _everyone_ was present to witness how nervous she was with being so. Bullies went after what they thought was weakness, and he made a note to keep an eye on Velvet until the first few…examples could be made. Hopefully not by his hands, but…well, 'Hope for the best, prepare for the worst' and all that.

Still…a part of his mind couldn't help but try to find _some_ form of ulterior motive that the Headmaster would have with partnering him up with the all Faunus team first. Was the Headmaster trying to bridge the gap between human and Faunus with him as the 'bridge'? Or maybe Ozpin thought that he'd have a better chance maintaining bonds with others that were hated due to being different?

The urge to smack the back of his head like a misbehaving computer was there. Here he was, trying to find motive where there may not even be one.

"Well if it isn't a surprise to see you here Tali," four sets of footsteps accompany the voice as their owners approached, "Thought you ended up in the med-wing after rumours popped up of you wrestling with some big, nasty Grimm yesterday."

Leopold walked into view, feline ears twitching as the ever-present chevalier hat hung from the Faunus' neck by a cord.

"You sound surprised."

"Believe me, I am," Leopold smiled, even as he half-lidded his eyes at the frank admission, "Was more surprised at the message we got just before dinner last night though. You really without a team?"

Right, it was time for _Phase Two_.

"Yup. There were…how many? Fifty three initiates? Only forty-eight were going to get in, and Forty-One of us got to the pieces. That's ten teams of four, plus one spare." He gestured vaguely to himself, "I picked up a piece, but I ran into a Grimm instead of a teammate and no-one picked up the copy of the one I grabbed. And I don't think Ozpin would've kicked me out after I actually accomplished what we were supposed to do."

The Hare Faunus - Thwickett - blinked in confusion.

"Forty-eight?"

"Chess Pieces: Pawn, Rook, Bishop, Knight, Queen, and King. That's six. Double that for White and Black makes twelve. One piece each for a team of four puts it at forty-eight."

"Ahh, cool. Thwickett; Thwickett Marche." He shook hands with his classmate, and idly noted that the Faunus was just vaguely rushing through the gesture. "So which one did you pick up?"

At this point he was actually rather glad he had actually picked up a piece.

"White Pawn."

In hindsight, a Pawn was so terribly fitting, it wasn't even funny. A pawn was - initially - one of the weakest pieces in the game, something that seemed appropriate given his independent status. Then there was the 'promotions' aspect. He would be working alongside the other teams, assisting them, and learning from each one. If left unchecked and underestimated by a foolish opponent, he could cause quite a bit of havoc.

"Fitting." The Fox Faunus caught him by surprise whe he had spoken. Had the Faunus used the same reasoning he did? "Akane Fukui."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement, noting the crisp and concise tone that Akane had used. Poor relations with Human, perhaps? If that was true, then at least Akane was civil in a public area.

He smiled, and then turned to the final, unintroduced, and most important member of Team Violet.

"Nice to meet you. I'm -"

"The Boss."

For a couple of seconds, there was silence between them: three unimpressed glares pointed at one smiling in unabashed amusement whilst the last was steadily going redder and redder in the face.

"It's rude to interrupt, Leo."

Leopold - in his defence - did look somewhat, probably, most likely embarrassed. Not to the point of a heartfelt apology, but he reckoned that it just wasn't in his nature to hand them out at every occasion.

"Velvet is the boss, so the boss is the Boss and nothing less. Akane's still Akane because he's a redhead and I'm still at a loss with that, and Thwick's Tick-Tock."

He couldn't help it; he turned an inquisitive look towards the Hare, who was rather awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"It…makes sense in context."

"Like everything in life, then." He flicked his Scroll into the air once more, the device compacting as he caught it. "Now that we've all been acquainted, guess it's time to get a move on. First lecture's with a…Professor Peter Port."

The five of them collected whatever objects they had left at rest, and then collectively made their way towards the Academy Building itself.

He had been given a profile on Professor Port, but he found himself wondering just what kind of man he was.

* * *

Professor Port was - without a doubt - a _bombastic_ man.

"Mon _sters_! _Deeeemons! Prowlers of the Night!_ "

Loud. Boisterous. Hammy, even.

"Yes, the Creatures of Grimm have many names! But _I_ merely refer to them as _prey! Ha-ha!_ "

Idly, he wondered if the man had experience as a Thespian Actor.

The rest of the class had a pretty even split between two thoughts about the Professor: 'Still take him seriously with only a tiny bit of confusion', or 'Ignore the loud, red, moustachioed man'. Some students looked ready to take notes, although of what, he hadn't the foggiest. The first week was generally spent letting the students get accustomed to their new surroundings, and there wasn't anything…noteworthy about Port's introduction-to-Beacon-try-not-to-get-killed-now-when-I-was-your-age recounted tales.

Except for that wink the Professor gave Yang. He would have killed to have a recording of it.

As discreetly as he could, he spared a glance at the other students in the room. Ruby looked like she was about to fall asleep; poor girl was probably still drained from the Initiation. Jaune as in a fairly similar situation to Ruby, but he was making a valiant effort to remain interested. Nora seemed to float off into her own world every now and then,

Both Velvet and Thwickett were both poised to being taking notes, should any notes worth taking arise. The difference though was that Velvet seemed to have that I'm-not-quite-sure-if-I've-picked-the-right-career-choice nervous smile, and Thwickett was tapping his pen against paper, not so much annoyed at his lack of note, but just seeming like a fast acting, always-late person in general. Akane was the epitome of calm, eyes closed yet still writing something down in Vacuese on his paper, doodling, even; if it was possible to 'doodle' a language.

Leopold was…well…

He leant sideways, a scant few centimetres away from the Faunus' ears.

" _Now's not the time for a nap, Cat._ "

The single flick of his ears that the Faunus gave in response to his hushed whisper was all he needed to know that despite being face down on the desk, Leopold was awake and alert. A hand slipped out from its current task as a pillow, and a single finger tapped the Scroll that the Faunus had prepared before taking a - literal - cat nap.

A red circle was quite clearly visible on the Scroll interface.

He frowned, even as Leopold's shoulders shook minutely in obvious amusement. Why hadn't _he_ thought of recording these lectures?

"So! Whom amongst you believes themselves to be the _embodiment_ of these _traits?!_ "

Almost immediately, Weiss rocketed up from her seat, hand straight up and indignation in her eyes.

"I do, Sir!"

"Well then! Let's find out!"

The Professor chortled as he pulled a cloth from a table. Something that proved to be most definitely _not_ a table but a cage containing a _live Boarbatusk_.

That cloth had to be Dust lined to the point that it was _made_ of the stuff, if the Grimm had just _sat their quiet despite being surrounded by Aura users_.

"Step forward! And face your _opponent!_ "

It was here that he decided that Professor Port was also _extremely and positively insane_.

* * *

"Well…" Leopold started up just as they left the class, "…that was most certainly…unique."

That…was definitely one way to put it. After initially balking at how Professor Port had put his students at risk, it had only taken a couple of seconds to see the method behind the madness; or at the very least, the reasoning. The Boarbatusk was an adolescent, for one: fully matured members of its species didn't _have_ a belly as unarmoured as that one. Then there was the fact that the Boarbatusk's…tusk points were blunted down to practically smooth nubs.

There was also the fact that should Weiss have failed, there was a large, experienced Hunter that could have probably bodily wrestle the thing to the ground and snap its neck with his bare hands.

The Schnee heiress had been disarmed during the skirmish - distracted by her Leader's cheering, of all things. Although in the heiress' defence, Ruby _was_ being a little distracting. Still, she had emerged victorious in the end, was congratulated by Professor Port, and then stormed out of the lecture theatre the moment he had dismissed the class.

He winced. Problems were brewing on the horizon for Team Ruby.

"Still…who have we got now?"

Thwickett simply pointed at the door they were currently walking past, one that a couple other students had very nearly walked into before realising they were one room off.

He read the name off the plaque transfixed to a door a few feet away from the lecture hall's own.

 _[Cheshire. Chester. Student Support Office.]_

"Hopefully the next one will be…more normal."

Thwickett sounded hopeful, and he couldn't quite stop the smile that formed when that hopeful look completely collapsed as they entered the next lecture theatre.

Oh he was a horrible person, and then he entered the room and realised why Thwickett's hopeful look had collapsed in despair.

Wall Scrolls. Wall Scrolls _everywhere_. From Vale comic book heroes and villains, to Vacuese Anime and Manga, to Atlesian Theatrical Plays, to Mistrian masonry and landscapes, three quarters of the lecture hall was covered in imagery from all over Remnant.

The only surfaces in the room _not_ covered was the back wall - which admittedly, no one would be looking at - the chalkboard up front, and the door next to it that had the exact same name plaque on it as the one outside.

He blinked, then rubbed his eyes to make sure that _no_ , he wasn't imagining the words written in a definitely cartoony art-style.

 _ **[Professor Cheshire says: Hide & Seek!]**_

Many a student took one look at the single message scrawled out on the blackboard, dismissed it, and set about finding seats for their teams. A few had even noticed something they liked hanging from the walls, and began to strike up conversations.

Five minutes passed, and his classmates were becoming confused.

Ten minutes passed, and they were openly questioning the situation.

He wondered. If fifteen minutes went by, weren't they free to go?

"Maybe…" Velvet looked about the lecture hall, looking for something out of the ordinary other than the single message on the chalkboard and numerous pop culture Wall Scrolls dotted about. "…Maybe he's not here?"

"I am not so sure. We would have been given notice if a Professor was not able to arrive, for whatever reason."

A test, maybe? Why else wouldn't he be here -

Something _clicked_. He glanced back at the message written on the - not literal - wall.

 _Hide and Seek_.

A laugh bubbled in his stomach as a quote came to mind. _Greetings Professor Cheshire. Shall we play a game?_ He didn't think that they were going to 'win' by not playing - but he had a _very_ nifty method of cheating at this very game in particular.

 _:: Semblance: Activate. ::_

The world _exploded_ into colours beneath closed eyelids.

 _There_. A rich, purple form took shape. Adult; Male. Cat ears and Tail; A Faunus. They stood four feet to the left of the tutor's desk. The kaleidoscope of colours faded into black as he willed his Semblance away, and he allowed three seconds to pass before opening his eyes; gaze focused exactly where the mystery Faunus should have been stood.

He frowned.

Nothing. Nothing except a poster of a blank white silhouette - a life sized depiction of a character he recognised to be a god-like figure from a three-or-four year old Vacuese Manga.

He blinked, and then slumped with a sigh. Perhaps Professor Polendina was right. Maybe introducing Penny to Vacuese Popular Culture _was_ a bad idea.

 _Unless…_

"Umm…Talos?" Velvet was the first to notice what he was doing, and paused in her questions for a brief second, "What…what are you doing?"

"Nothing important, Boss." A smile pulled at his lips when she turned positively crimson. "Just going to test out a theory."

With one final fold, he held his creation aloft, and set about to looking it over for imperfections.

"With a paper aeroplane?"

He brushed off Akane's question, more preoccupied with aiming said aeroplane. Too fast and no one would see it, too slow and it might not even get to where he wanted it to go.

"It'll make sense in a couple of seconds."

And with that, he released the plane.

Every single pair of eyes was locked onto the paper plane, almost as if they were mesmerised as it lazily glided through the air. It dipped and rose, yet remained steadfast on its flight course.

And then it froze; hanging in mid-air three feet away from his poster-slash-target as if time itself had stopped.

Students gasped, some in surprise, others in incomprehension.

Then the _eyes_ opened. A gaze of Shocking Pink appeared directly in front of the poster, almost as if it had suddenly came to life.

This time everyone reacted, even he had jumped in his seat.

"Twelve minutes, eighteen seconds." A mouth materialised as the amused tone filled the air, grin wide and toothy as the eyes twinkled in merriment. "This is the first time I have never gone undiscovered for the full fourteen minutes, fifty-nine seconds."

The teacher materialised in full, deep purple suit - playing card house themed, he noted - matching their hair as a long, feline tail swayed back and forth.

"If I were Professor Goodwitch, I would be chewing you all out about how I went completely undetected for the better part of ten minutes," the Professor span the chair on one of its legs, timing his fall so that he ended up seated with his legs kicked up on the table. That either took _a lot_ of luck, or some serious skill, "But I'm not Goodwitch. Instead I'll congratulate Mister Vulcan on breaking a record. Good job."

He…didn't quite know what to say to that.

"Thank…you?"

"You're welcome. Now then, introductions." He bowed in his seat. Somehow. The Professor somehow bowed in his seat with his feet kicked up on his desk and chair tilting so far back that it was defying the laws of gravity. "My name is Professor Chester Cheshire. Do not call me 'Professor' though; 'Chester', 'Cheshire', or 'Chesh' will do. Anything else will be completely ignored. As for what I do? I'm Beacon's Student Support Officer and the Professor overseeing these General Periods."

The Professor gestured around, both the them and the room in general.

"Now with General Periods, this will be the only one you have to attend. After this, you can pretty much do what you want in the General Periods you have throughout the weeks. Why be sat in a room wishing you could go to the library for report research when you could be _in_ the library looking for report research? As long as the Team Leader sends me a quick message over their Scrolls telling me what they will be doing, I won't be all that fussed."

All of a sudden, the casual seated Professor was gone. Where there was one a leaning back, relaxed Faunus was now someone sat rigidly in his chair, looking at each and every one of them over tented hands.

"Now then, as for why I'm really here," Cheshire's gaze hardened as his smile became a thin line, "I am your _Student_. _Support_. _Officer_. No doubt many of you have wanted autonomy in your lives for a long while. But I _know_ of horror stories where students are thrown into the metaphorical deep end, and end up panicking. Not knowing what to do. What I say will probably go in one ear and out the other, but _I am here_. You have a problem? _You come and talk to me_. Trouble in Paradise? _You come and talk to me_. Schoolwork got you down? _You come and talk to me_. Team Problems? _You…_ well, you get the idea."

An air of solemnity settled around the room, and he noted that everyone present was _quiet_.

And then it was gone, the Professor back in his relaxed, gravity defying slouch.

"But enough about that. I'm sure you lot have _tonnes_ of work to do," a few snickers filled the room, and Cheshire's grin widened, "No doubt Peter bored you half to death - or half of you to death - with his 'Captured the Beowolf' tale. Really, the man loves his to exposé his acts of bravery and skills a little too much."

The Professor blinked, looking all the world like he had just remembered something important.

"Oh! Also, before I forget - because I know I will: Mister Vulcan? Miss Belladonna? Mister Arc? I'd like to see each of you after classes; preferably in that order."

They looked at one another, confusion in both Blake's and Jaune's gazes - and probably his own.

He shrugged, and then went back to doing…well, nothing. Well, almost nothing, because in his vision, a single profile flickered into view; seen only by him and displaying the provided profile of one Cheshire, Chester.

A single emblem filled his vision, and almost impeccably, his eyes narrowed.

Just why did _they_ have one of their Operatives here, in Beacon?

* * *

The General Period had gone by in a flash. An hour of students doing…more or less nothing soon became the hour lunch break, and that soon became the last half of their only required attendance in this hall. As the majority of the students made to leave, he knew half of them would not be coming back. Experience taught him so. The three students he wanted to see had stayed behind and he pushed himself out of his chair.

"You two may want to get comfortable." He gestured to the door behind him, "We'll be keeping this in my office; confidentiality and all that."

Miss Belladonna and Mister Arc nodded, and he smiled at the two before holding said door open for Mister Vulcan. In absolutely no time at all, the two of them were seated at his 'desk' desk.

"You wanted to see me Chester?"

He smiled; a student actually remembered his introductory request, and it was the one who found him hiding in plain sight!

"It's nothing serious Talos, I just wanted to…hmm…satiate my curiosity, is all." Talos blinked; a slow, deliberate blink that made him feel as if he had said something stupid. Oh, he had to remember to do that to someone else in the future. Maybe Glynda? It was always so _fun_ riling her up. "Not every day I get to see someone that only existed in Science Fiction stories in the flesh, so to speak."

His smile widened when Talos looked completely unimpressed.

"I'm pretty sure there's an 'abuse of power' thing here somewhere."

"Most likely." His smile widened as he clasped his hands together. "What's the point in being in a position of power if you can't abuse it every now and then?"

"Not _quite_ the advice I expected from a Student Support Officer." Ahh, he never got tired of bone dry, teenage exasperation. "Much less a _RAINBOW Operative_."

"You're…"

He paused, half for his own amusement and half to collect his thoughts.

"… _remarkably_ , well informed; although it's former _RAINBOW_ , for future reference."

"No such thing as a former _RAINBOW_." Talos looked entirely unconcerned, even as the teen fiddled with his headphone-like hearing apparatus. "You're either active, or on indefinite leave."

He couldn't help it. A single, amused bark of a laugh escaped him.

"Only _RAINBOW_ Operatives know that little in-joke." He wracked his mind for any Operative that he could picture interacting with Talos. "Who'd you hear it from? Mason? Gelato? Glatteis? Potter?"

"Operative Haeyhae. He'd mention it every now and then when he was teaching me how to hold a gun." The teen shrugged. "I could download all the data in the world off the internet, but nothing beats proper experience and tutelage."

It was nowhere near a jaw drop, but his lips did part ever-so-slightly in astonished disbelief.

 _RAINBOW Operative_ Haeyhae. Valkoinen Haeyhae. The kid had firearm instruction from _RAINBOW's White Death_. Dear lord, Spectrum wasn't half-arsing with _anything_ , were they?

"It was only a couple of lessons. He was a busy man, and I don't think he was all that fond of me when I stated mixing Gun-Kata into my repertoire."

That…that sounded like Haeyhae alright. The man was a miracle worker with a gun, but the moment someone went against his whole 'soldier-sniper' mentality and…well, butting heads would be putting it lightly.

"Still…can't quite believe you got lessons from the White Death."

In response, Talos just gestured to himself with a vague point.

"Multibillion Lien investment and pinnacle of Remnant's technology. 'Best of the Best, or none at all' the Lot in the Labs would say."

He laughed, clapping once as he did so.

"Indeed. Indeed and evidently." He nodded, curiosity _far_ from satisfied. "Now then, I shan't keep you any longer. No doubt you're itching to get to combat class and see how you stack up against your classmates. Send Miss Belladonna in when you leave, would you?"

The teen nodded once, and made his way over to the classroom exit. He deliberately waited until the teen had grasped the door's ornate handle before speaking up.

"Oh, and Talos?" The teen looked over his shoulder, orange eye glowing with attention. "I know you know, but all the teachers hear at Beacon are behind the Persona Initiative; you need anything or anyone to talk to, my door is always open."

The teen paused for a second, looked thoughtful, and then nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind, Chester."

Talos then disappeared from view, leaving the doorway open and unoccupied for no more than a few seconds. Plenty of time for him to fish out the couple of folders he would need before Miss Belladonna closed the door behind her.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

The young woman's stoic mask was impressive, but the distress behind it was all but visible to him. She looked cornered; on edge. Not to the point where she would be jumping at shadows or loud noises, but a subtle weariness directed towards everything that surrounded her.

This…this was going to be a delicate case. He directed an amicable smile towards the Faunus-in-hiding, and was relieved to see a trace amount of apprehension leave the young woman's shoulders. As cynical as it was to admit, he was near-absolutely sure that he would not have gotten the same reaction out of Miss Belladonna if he were human.

He gestured to the seat in front of him, using the act to cover brush a couple of papers that had come loose back into their folder. The blood-red, snarling visage of a monstrous beast was most likely the last thing she wanted to see.

 _Baby steps_ \- he thought to himself _._ That bombshell could wait for another day.

"Yes, Miss Belladonna. Please, take a seat."

* * *

He licked his lips, glancing at the smiling - _God_ , he wondered if the teacher ever stopped that - teacher sat at the desk. Talos didn't seem all that bothered when he left the Student Support Officer's office, but Blake looked a little…shaken? Jumpy? She was definitely distracted, given how she flinched when he had asked if anything was wrong.

"You…err…wanted to see me, Professor?"

Professor Cheshire just waved him off.

"First off: none of that 'Professor' crap. You're all young adults now Jaune - can I call you Jaune? Yes? Excellent. Now where was I? Oh yes, you're all young adults, and I'll be treating you all with the respect young adults deserve. Naturally, I request the same courtesy; just 'Chester' or even 'Chesh' will do." The Faunus teacher blinked once, and then gestured to the seat he was stood next to. "Please, take a seat."

The chair creaked as he seated himself, and that horrible nervousness in his stomach started to form.

Professor Cheshire pushed a folder forwards, smile never leaving as he gulped. [ _Arc, Jaune - Student Application_ ] was printed on the front.

"Second, I have to congratulate you." There…there was _something_ in the Tutor's gaze. "These are some of the best forgeries I have ever seen in my life, and trust me Jaune; I've seen _a lot_ of fakes."

Forgeries. _Fakes_. They knew. They knew and _of course they knew it wasBeaconandheshould'veknownbet-_

"Easy Jaune…easy…" The chair was digging into his back, and he became dimly aware of the warm…something that had been pressed into his hands. "Now you see why I have the seat here for students. A fair number have had to go to the Nurse's office after panicking and falling over incorrectly."

The world swam back into view. He winced when it registered that the chair was uncomfortable because both he and it had nearly tumbled backwards; only kept upright by the Professor's grip. The chair was pushed forwards, and he _juggled_ the hot mug - he didn't want to spill the-

He blinked, panic forgotten for but a second as he realised what was inside the mug.

"…Hot chocolate?"

"Blame my fiancée," Professor Cheshire adopted an extremely exaggerated frown as he spoke, "I swear if it was physically possible all she would eat and drink are sweets and sweet beverages."

He couldn't help himself - or maybe the nerves had finally gotten to him; either way, a single laugh bubbled up and out of him.

Then reality came crashing back down, and he had to physically stop himself from dropping the mug.

"So…" He swallowed thickly, recapturing the attention of the Professor, "…what happens now?"

Cheshire blinked at him; a slow, deliberate motion that made him think he had asked the wrong question.

"Nothing." A hand went up, palm facing him and stalling his sputtering. "Answer me this: Why are you still 'here' here, if you now know that _we_ know these are fakes? Believe me Jaune, if we didn't want you here, you wouldn't have even gotten on the airship into Beacon, much less end up the leader of your own team and sit down for your first class."

That…that made a startling amount of sense.

"Now the reason why I say these are the best Fakes I have ever seen is because they _not_. Here for example: 'Received initial swordsmanship lessons from Huntsman Baudricourt'. I know the man is a close friend of the Arc family, as I also know that the man had a hand in training your elder sisters. I went to him, and he did confirm that he _did_ give you lessons on how to wield a sword. No more than a dozen couple-hour sessions. Over the course of five years."

A wry smile crossed the Professor's features, and he could feel his face burning even as his stomach dropped.

"There are plenty more of these stretched truths throughout the application. Not outright lies or - heaven forbid - complete bullshit. You're just…shall we say, not up to what your papers say you should be; to the point that I could tell that these were not quite the whole truth. Even then, it took me a month of digging; trying to find out what was truly true and what was an exaggeration."

"So…" he slumped in the chair, and idly took a sip from the mug. A part of him shouted that he was just stalling. "…that's it. I'm just a talentless rookie no-"

A Scroll was pushed in front of him, and surprise shot through his mind when he realised it was footage of the Initiation.

"A 'talentless rookie' as you put it, wouldn't be able to deflect a Deathstalker claw with nothing but a kite shield. A 'talentless Rookie' wouldn't be able to keep up with Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, or Lie Ren. A _'talentless rookie'…_ " He couldn't find it in himself to look away from the footage. "…Doesn't charge into battle against a Class-Three Grimm and come out of it _alive_ , Jaune."

"You _are_ talented, Jaune. You _are_ capable. The initiation _proved_ that. People have argued that you've 'cheated the system' - but…" The Professor's feline ears twitched as he shrugged, "… _everyone_ has at some point, and I can find far more dirty laundry and closeted skeletons on other people that far outstrip your little stretching of the truth."

He…he wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to hear that, and for the first time he had seen, Professor Cheshire's face was devoid of a smile or an exaggerated fake frown.

"Make no mistake though, Jaune. This _isn't_ a free pass." The Professor leant forwards, and he sank further back into his chair. "Your attendance at Beacon has simply become 'Conditional'."

"Con…Conditional?"

The Professor nodded, pushing forward a second - open - folder forward.

"Twice a week I run an after class 'club' - if you will - for any student that wishes to attend. It's not quite a support group, but first-through-fourth year students attend; whether it is for training, team advice, or just to socialise. Additionally, you will be required to be present at the weekend training sessions I am in charge of for the first two terms of this year. Your attendance is _non-negotiable_ for the former until I deem it so, and I shouldn't have to specify for the latter. Am I perfectly clear, Jaune?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"You're fortunate, in your attempts to be careful, Jaune." He didn't feel all that fortunate, if he were honest. "You might not be at the level you stated you were on your paperwork, but Beacon is a military institute. Provided you learn and improve…well, come four years' time and you _will_ be at the level your paperwork says you should be, and _more_."

A second later and the stern expression vanished as if it had never even existed, replaced by a much softer and friendlier look.

"Come alone, or bring your Team - heck, bring every single one of your friends if you think it'll help. I'd recommend the latter, in all honesty. Just give us a warning if you do though, so I can prepare enough snacks and the like. Happened before once - and let me tell you Jaune, Bear Faunus are _notoriously_ hard to calm down if they're hungry and someone else has eaten the last of the food."

The Professor clapped his hands together, and the sharp crack nearly sent him sprawling out of fright.

"But enough about that. I've taken up far too much of your time; Duelling Classes start in five, and I don't want you to face Glynda's ire. Just tell here - word-for-word - that 'it was Chesh's fault' when she asks."

"…One last word of advice, Jaune." He jolted with his hand on the door handle. "Talk to your team. They're there for a reason. I _know_ they will back you. It won't be perfect - it never is, but you've been put in charge of Juniper for a reason. And remember, my door is always open."

"Th-thanks you, Pr…Chester."

"Oh and by the way, you don't have to inform your parents; I've already taken the liberty of doing so." He choked. "Well - actually, you might want to give them a ring. They're not going to chew your head off and then drag you back home - I've made sure of that, but I think it's fair that you get a proper parental scolding."

He swallowed thickly, not trusting himself to speak and very closely not being able to walk without wobbling.

He…he had forgotten about that; _Oh God_ his mom and dad were going to be _so_ mad…

* * *

Jaune was the final student to enter the hall, and was the only one not in his combat attire. He looked distracted, and very nearly missed Professor Goodwitch's borderline interrogation as to why he wasn't prepared for _C &D_. Amazingly enough, it wasn't Jaune's nervous explanation of 'It was Chesh's fault' that caught him by surprise, but the Professor's reaction.

She had shifted from befuddlement, to apoplectic, and finally to resigned, before excusing Jaune and giving him permission to simply sit this lesson out.

That…was the most expression he had ever seen from Professor Goodwitch apart from 'Stoic' and 'Serious'. Now he found himself insanely curious as to just what 'It was Chesh's fault' meant.

She recovered with poise and grace however, and by the time she had walked back to stand in front of them it was as if those emotions had never even existed.

"Welcome - students," Professor Goodwitch stood directly in front of them, looking down from the raised stage she was stood on, "To your first of two Combat & Duelling Classes."

There were two C&D Classes: One for single duels, and one for Team battles. He wondered just _how_ he was going to participate in the second, but disregarded that though near immediately. No doubt Ozpin had already cooked something up for that.

"Your performance in this class is important; both in gauging your own abilities in combat, but also how you compare with your fellow classmates."

He reckoned that everyone present was waiting for this class, which was probably why it was on the first day of the year; the chance to beat your classmates absolutely senseless in a controlled environment. The great screen behind the Professor blinked into life, dying the hall a soft blue as all lights in the room dimmed.

His fingers caressed the twin grips of _Gia_ and _Tous_. The nerves were getting to him, and only the combined weight of _Chrysá Míla_ managed to calm his _I-CORE Heart_.

"For the first year, you will face everyone and each other in varying conditions: weather conditions, handicaps, and many more."

Goodwitch adjusted her glasses, tapping the Scroll she held and causing the screen to roulette what he recognised as were pictures of everyone present.

 _A randomiser_.

The first two students were decided with a soft ping: Team Amber's Artorias Ddraig versus Team Junpier's Lie Ren.

"Now then, all students are to retreat to the viewing stands. Mister Ddraig, Mister Lie, prepare yourselves."

Everyone did so, getting comfortable in their seats with their teams as the two remaining in the area warmed themselves up. The duel only beginning when every light in the hall darkened save for the spotlights above the stage.

He watched as the duel played out. Lie Ren was fast, he knew. Fast, but didn't hit all that hard. Any melee he had attempted with his unconventional pistol-bayonets were batted away by his opponent's multi-form weapon: Duel blades that could either attach to one another at the pommels - giving Ddraig an actual Dualblade, or combining into some form of double-edged glaive.

Lie Ren had the advantage at range though, the Machine Pistols doing a much better job at depleting Aura that damaging Grimm. For every chunk of Aura that Ren managed to shave off with a magazine's worth of ammunition, Artorias returned the favour in one or two strikes.

Rather surprisingly, the first dual had ended in a tie. Both of them had managed to knock each other's Aura down into the 'Red Ten Percent' before the match was called. The two had shook hands, mirrored satisfied expressions on their faces as they seated themselves with their teams, and then both groaned in absolute exasperation when they had begun being fussed over and grilled for details by their respective female partners-slash-significant-others.

Everyone laughed at the display, and then things continued. The great screen behind Professor Goodwitch flickered between student profiles at varying speeds, settling on students that would celebrate, groan, or laugh as they were called up for their turn on the podium. Teams cheered for their own when their duels tipped in their favour, and offered condolences when they had slunk back to the audience in defeat.

Yet still he watched. Combat data was useful; _insanely_ so. It would help him formulate how he could work together with the individuals of the teams; taking note of who won and who lost their duels with concealed enthusiasm.

Pyrrha Nikos absolutely pancaked Dove Bronzewing, coming away with a perfect victory without looking like she had broken a sweat. He huffed; that was the Invincible Girl for you. The battle had actually been over so quickly that to call it combat data was _generous_.

Ruby had gone up against Méihuā Shān, literally running rings around the larger girl and eventually pulling away with a victory for her team. It wasn't so clear cut as Pyrrha's flawless win: Ruby had just over a third of her Aura left when the Vacuese girl's own had dipped into the red, but it was still a victory.

A part of his mind pointed out that it was Ruby's unorthodox weapon that was the contributing factor to her win. He paused for a second, acknowledged it, and stuck that piece of information on a metaphorical footnote alongside the information. He was allowed to have biases and favourites. Besides, Méihuā wielded what looked like - _no_ , he amended, _was_ \- a large, sturdy, _impossibly large_ boomerang.

The match between Weiss Schnee and Tiffany Blauadel created something of a stir in-between the 'boring' matches. They were two heiresses of the two largest Dust Corporations in the world, facing off against one another. If he were a more poetic person, he probably would have made some suitably dramatic comparison to a clash between the wills and futures of their names. Even the audience seemed to agree, if their deathly silence was an indicator.

Reality though, was another matter entirely.

The first clues as to what the duel's outcome would be were each heiresses respective weapons.

Weiss wielded a rapier, the ultimate - and perhaps stereotypical - duelling blade; forged for quick attacks at a lengthy distance. It wasn't without its weaknesses however; a rapier had poor cutting power, and was rather unwieldy in close combat if the opponent got past the weapon's deadly tip; leaving the wielder open to more slash-oriented weapons, like a sabre or a broadsword.

Tiffany's weapon was more than just a broadsword. _Noblesse Oblige_ was a Greatsword that put claymores to shame; a massive _Zweihänd-Gewehr_ composed of six feet of Aura compatible alloys and most likely chambered for fifty calibre munitions; the Blauadel heiress had no problem with gripping her blade's _Ricasso_ to avoid any deficiency in close range melee, and any attempt the Schnee heiress made to open up distance was met with a hail of gunfire.

Next, it came to their choice of clothing.

All that Weiss had to protect herself with was her Dust woven combat attire and her own Aura. Any attempt at parrying the massive blade was worthless simply because _Noblesse Oblige_ most likely weighed half of her body weight, so the Schnee heiress either had to avoid all attacks aimed at her or take them head on.

The Blauadel heiress however, was clad in fluted armour from the neck down. With lethal attacks being grounds for disqualification and whatever punishment Professor Goodwitch could come up with, any attacks that did manage to get by her weapon simply glanced off of the armour. Her Aura barely flickering in response to the glancing blows, and any Dust based attack were avoided altogether.

There was an avalanche in this battle, and it wasn't the young woman whose name was 'Snow' in _Olde Atlesian_.

The battle ended exactly two minutes and thirty-six-seconds in, Weiss conceding after having her Aura knocked down to around twenty percent and given the option to surrender by her opponent. Perhaps it was a result of whatever 'noble training' the two heiresses had gone through: a solid defeat where Weiss had to pick herself up off the floor would have damaged her image and standing far more than accepting the offering.

Weiss left the arena, already receiving honest words of support from both Ruby and Yang. From what he could recall, the Schnee and the Blauadel, weren't on bad terms, but not necessarily good terms either. From a politicking point of view, noting was really lost when Weiss had accepted the surrender option provided to her.

He huffed. Politics weren't his game, but his mind was far more capable than a normal person's, and had a tendency to wander if left unchecked.

Weiss had given the duel her all, but sometimes 'your all' just wasn't good enough. There wasn't any deep, mysterious reason why the Schnee heiress had lost. She simply just had the bad luck to face someone whom literally held every advantage over her own weaknesses.

"Well," Leo's tone - as well as the hand meeting his back - snapped him out of his thoughts, "You're up Tali."

 _Up_? The question must have been evident in his gaze as he looked about, because Thwickett was pointing towards the great screen opposite them.

 _ **\- Next Match: [Talos Vulcan] Versus [Citri Aerlight] -**_

Right. Jaune had been excused, and that pushed the class back into even numbers. He rose in a stretch, joints popping and servomotors inaudibly whirring. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Leader of Team Celeste made her way to the locker rooms.

 _This_ \- he though as Akane and Thwickett whispered as much information to him as they could about his opponent - _is either going to end in joy, or tears._

* * *

 _ **Next Round - Chapter Four: "Duel like you want to win"**_


	5. Chapter 4

_**Calibre of a Forged Soul - Chapter Four: "Duel like you want to win"**_

* * *

Citri Aerlight. Squirrel Faunus. Graduated third overall from Vale's Pyre Academy. Specialised in close range combat; favouring hard hitting brawling punches. That was pretty much all Thwickett and Akane managed to get out before he had received an impatient glare from Professor Goodwitch.

He had taken two steps before he was halted by a hand taking hold of his shoulder, and for the first time since meeting the Faunus, Akane was openly displaying an emotion on his face.

Concern.

 _Do not allow yourself to be struck by any attacks she throws with her left. Ratatösk will annihilate you._

And with that he was released, left to walk into the arena and wait for his opponent.

It didn't take much to guess that _Ratatösk_ was Aerlight's weapon. W _hat_ kind of weapon it was - as well as being one that could 'annihilate' him was another question entirely. She hadn't had whatever it was on her person, so it must have been something large and unwieldy, even in its compact form. Some form of lance maybe? A powerful enough attack _could_ get through a person's entire Aura in one go, but piercing attacks were often the most effective.

The chatter died away, and he focused his attention on Aerlight herself; anything he could gleam about her now would mean he wouldn't have to waste time during the duel. The tail was the first thing he noticed; the appendage was a great, fluffy Cocoa Brown, something perfect for blocking his line of sight if he decided to attack from the rear. Her attire was lightweight in appearance; the clothing looking like it would not hinder her movements at all.

On a somewhat related note, their jackets were the same; a Carrot Orange and Charcoal piece that matched his Bronze and Brown. Someone else went the extra mile for _PRISM_ quality gear, and he could attest to how ungodly practical they were.

Then there was her weapon.

He couldn't help himself. The sight of the thing caused him to swallow the imaginary lump in his throat.

 _Oh. Oh boy…_

"I don't suppose I can surrender before we start, can I?"

"Giving up already?"

Her voice was harsh and uncaring; a dangerous contralto that spoke of a hard life. Many humans made their hatred for Faunus quite clear, and here was one that was all too willing to hate back.

"You have a Pile Bunker. I feel justified in not wanting to go anywhere _near_ that."

It was a great, gunmetal coloured thing. Ignoring the dark armour that that covered everything up to her shoulder, the majority of _Ratatösk_ was affixed to her left forearm; looking like a scaled up receiver of a military rifle, the magazine port devoid of said magazine. In the place of a barrel was a spiral grooved metal stake, extending five-or-so foot out of the back of the weapon and ending in a blocky hammerhead-like bludgeon that rested flush with her knuckles.

A magazine fed, arm mounted, hammerhead tipped Pile Bunker. Forget winning this duel, he'd be lucky to _survive_ being hit by that.

Her lips twitched, flicking from a scowl to a thin, straight line for a fraction of a second.

"That makes you smarter than some humans I can name." The statement hung in the air, and a couple of his classmates voiced their displeasure as she completely ignored them, occupied with plucking one of half-a-dozen magazines from her thigh holsters and slamming the magazine into the waiting port. "It's only fair I warn you: I _don't_ pull my punches."

It wasn't a boast. It wasn't a taunt. The words and the tone she had spoken them in were merely someone stating _a fact_.

"Miss Aerlight, ready?"

She nodded at the Professor's question, settling into a boxer-esque stance and bobbing slightly on the balls of her feet.

 _:: Main_System: Engaging Combat Mode. ::_

"Mister Vulcan, ready?"

He flicked the strap keeping _Gia_ secure in its holster, wrapping his fingers around the grip as he pulled _Poté_ free to rest on his shoulder. A nod was all that the Professor needed, even if he kept his gaze locked with Aerlight's own.

"Very well!" Professor Goodwitch tapped her Scroll, and the lights dimmed until the outside world all but disappeared. "Begin!"

* * *

They watched him go, one hand twisting and turning a dial on his headphones, the other gripping one of the handguns holstered at his side. Akane turned to them, concern near completely replaced by his stoic mask once more.

"I hope he's going to be okay."

The cluck of a tongue startled her, Akane's tick also catching the attention of her two teammates.

"It would be wiser to hope he emerges from this battle with only a minority of his bones broken."

Her eyes widened, even Leo blinked once before staring at Akane out of the corner of his eye. Thwickett turned to Akane, a reproachful glint in his eyes as he spoke.

"That's not very nice, Akane."

"Yet you did not correct me."

She watched as Thwickett's face pulled into a grimace, yet he didn't deny the words; she and Leo were missing context.

"What," She kept her voice steady, watching in silence as one moment became several. "Do you mean, exactly?"

Instead of replying, Akane merely tilted his head in the direction of the arena.

* * *

There was a lot of information one could gleam from how a battle started; not enough to control the flow of the battle, but nudge it in his favour. Defensive fighters had to be probed and poked - never attacked under threat of a counter, mixing feints into battle to generate an opening for a proper attack. Offensive fighters had to be deflected - never defended against as that invited further assault, stalling for time until they grew annoyed and made a mistake.

The moment Citri had kicked off the instant the second syllable had resounded throughout the hall, he placed her in the latter category. She ducked as she weaved towards him, zig-zagging as she charged into range. She was hoping to throw off his aim - he guessed - something she was only half succeeding at. _Poté_ would take too long to unshoulder and fire; flip-cocking the rifle would've taken too long between shots - not to mention he would lose his main defence in melee.

But he still had _Gia_. The revolver came free and it took a fraction of a second to come to the conclusion that sighting would take too long. So he fired from the hip and left his computer-brain to compensate for factors such as 'aiming'.

The crack of gunfire filled the air as _Gia_ spat out round after round. Not a single one had hit the Squirrel Faunus, but she hadn't been his target in the first place. Haeyhae had been adamant in the belief that a gunner should only fire when they _knew_ their rounds would accomplish whatever objective he had set. They weren't meant to be used as an attack. Aerlight jumped from side to side in order to avoid the barrage, her advance delayed under threat of being shot. Momentum was key in any battle, both literally and figuratively. If Citri built up either of the two then he had already lost.

Still, even with Round Canisters in place of a bullet holding cylinder, his handguns could only hold eighteen cartridges. The last round left _Gia_ with a resounding crack, muffling the soft click as the cylinder popped open. Citri had resumed her charge, opting to forego any evasion for a straight rush - probably hoping to intimidate him into dropping his reload.

He did drop the empty Round Canister; directly in line with his spinning kick, sending the empty container on a flight path aimed squarely at her forehead. She batted the thing out of the air without a thought, but it still delayed her for a second. It was an extra second that helped him to push a Canister out of its bandolier pocket-sleeve with _Gia_ and reload the weapon. It was an extra second that let him straighten his arm and _Poté_ as he span. It was an extra second that let him sight _Poté_ , arm straight and extended as he sighted the rifle.

It was an extra second that Citri needed to commit to her next attack.

 _ **-Bang!-**_

The crack of the rifle was far, far louder than that of _Gia_. Although the thunderous noise was easily attributed to the yellow, sparking shot that was a Lightning Dust round. He watched as her eyes widened, fully committed to an attack yet running straight into one of his own. Her Aura subconsciously blazed to life in order to deflect the projective, and if the tightening of her features was an indication, the elemental bullet still completed its task.

It was a deliberate miss; he wasn't aiming to hit her. He didn't need to.

 _Five foot._

Dust Rounds had an interesting effect when combined with Aura. The people of Remnant had been compatible with Dust use for so long that over the decades Aura had collectively become more in tune with the mineral.

It was something that made Dust Rounds all the more effective against other people; Aura had become more and more susceptible to the near magical resource. Dust wasn't selective about how it detonated; an active Aura would trigger a reaction, which was why the stuff was so volatile. If regular armour could be penetrated with Armour Piercing Rounds, then Aura could be punctured by Dust Rounds. Not in the physical sense - not to mention that a Dust round did less 'bullet' damage on physical contact - but their effects would get through, however muted. A person didn't have to be hit by a Fire Round to feel the heat. A person didn't have to be hit by an Ice Round to feel the chill.

A Lightning Round didn't have to hit in order to send half-a-dozen volts of electricity straight through its target's body.

 _Four foot._

He just wanted to throw her off centre; the brief moment of uncomfortable paralysis was just a bonus. She had twisted to avoid the bullet and as a result the straight punch she was chambering was no longer in line to strike him with maximum effect.

 _Three._

 _Poté_ pivoted forwards and down on its lever as he performed a half cycle reload. His body tensed in preparation, ready to throw itself into a counterattack.

 _Two._

Her right arm shot out, blurring in a mixture of orange and charcoal. She wasn't going to use _Ratatösk_ as an opener. Pile Bunkers had their share of weaknesses, and missing an attack might as well as left its wielder with a washing pole attatched to their wrists. The punch had been hastily corrected before she threw it; the attack thrown a little too high, a little too far to his left.

 _One._

 _Poté_ snapped back up, upper rail connecting with her forearm and half deflecting, half guiding the attack away from him. Even still his knees buckled and his teeth gritted, and he marvelled at how a glancing blow could still rattle him so.

Rather than resist or fight against the attack's momentum, he went with it; spinning in place as he brought _Gia_ to bear. Head aimed attacks were forbidden, so he instead levelled the revolver at her back, all it would take was a twitch of his finger and every single rou - _Brown!_

Brown. That was pretty much _everything_ as a wave of force hit him before he could pull the trigger, sending him skidding backwards even as Aerlight was in the midst of pivoting to face him.

 _Her tail_ \- he realised. The large, bushy appendage wasn't just there to look plush and well groomed; she had reinforced it with her Aura to the point it had buffeted him halfway across the platform. He couldn't help but be impressed though, even if it did leave him back at square one - minus under-two-dozen rounds total and a large angle of attack.

The look on her face told him that he wasn't going to get away with that trick twice.

He spared a glance at the Aura Gauges on the big screen.

 _ **\- [Vulcan, T. Aura Levels: 93%] - [Aerlight, C. Aura Levels: 79%] -**_

A wince passed through him. Minus the Aura cost of charging his Lightning Round Canister and neutralising the majority of her tail-attack, Citri had still managed to shave off a twentieth of his Aura with _nothing_ more than a glancing blow. At the very least she couldn't pull off the tail-attack too often, if it drained her of a fifth of her own Aura.

 _Poté_ was collapsed back into its holster and _Tous_ was pulled free. No more time to prepare the rifle for now.

Citri charged, foregoing the majority of her evasion in favour of a quickened rush. She wasn't going to give him time to plan out every shot to the point he had done so earlier. At the very least he had more firepower now.

It became a dance when the two of them traded blows in the arena. Citri had rushed in and attempted to capitalise on overwhelming his parry-and-avoidance based defences. The right punches he could take. The left he avoided like the instant-kill it no doubt was. He twisted and turned in order to deflect the blows, _Gia_ and _Tous_ pushing away _Ratatösk_ whenever the weapon approached for a solid hit and firing whenever he got through her own guard.

Still, when the Pile Bunker fired the generated air pressure _alone_ was enough to give him pause. The grooves in the stake weren't just grooves - he realised; they were rails. After the hammerhead cleared past her knuckles, it _drilled_ ; adding a very literal twist to each attack. He didn't know how effective it was for a blunt attack, but if _Ratatösk_ was tipped with a spike instead of a hammerhead it would be far more lethal.

…That was a morbid train of thought.

It was still to his advantage whenever the Pile Bunker fired and missed though, Citri had to kick - or more often, punch - him away in order to allow the stake to retract back into the weapon itself. A couple of seconds later, and it was back to the fray.

Cheers erupted from the audience, and it wasn't long before he came to the conclusion he was being overwhelmed. Aerlight was become more and more aggressive; not so much controlling the flow of the battle as she was dumping very large rocks into what little flow _he_ had control over. Hand-to-Hand wasn't his specialty - it was the main reason he used firearms that doubled as melee weapons. The _FINGAH_ was just as useless - even if they weren't cover-blowing, he didn't have any magazines for them on him.

And that was without revealing his literally inhuman strength.

It wouldn't be long before he slipped up, and Aerlight would land a direct -

 _Ratatösk_ connected with his stomach, and the only thought to pass through his mind was a single word. A single word that perfectly encapsulated this very moment and what was to come.

 _:: SHIT. ::_

There were no stars, nor were there any planets. No, his vision just went _white_. His Aura had flared to life in that split second, manifesting as a solid wall in order to absorb most of the impact. Or some - rather, because the next thing he knew an almighty cracking filled the air as his back connected with the arena wall. There were gasps in the audience, people no doubt coming to some horrific - though wrong - conclusion about just what caused said cracking sound.

He was beginning to wonder - wiggling his arms and legs and discovering that he had no leeway to move - just _why things seemed to like embedding him into and throwing him through walls._

Powdered concrete and chunks of the composite material fell as he pulled an arm free, grip tight on _Gia_ despite the attack. ' _Never let go of your weapon_ ' Haeyhae had drilled into his head, and he was one-hundred percent sure that if he did, the _RAINBOW_ Operative would shoot him from _Spectrum Headquarters_ itself for the slight.

A soft clicking caught his attention. Citri had flicked her left arm out, _Ratatösk's_ grooved stake spiralling outwards and only halting when it reached its full extended length.

His _I-CORE Heart_ froze as he realised just what exactly he was looking at.

It wasn't a hammerhead. It wasn't a hammerhead _at all_.

It was _a muzzle break_.

* * *

 _Right thrown punch deflected by right revolver; overextension countered by single gunshot. Left straight avoided; immediate retreat. Pile Bunker fired, stake extended and brought around in a swing; duck beneath and -_

"He holds himself well against her."

She blinked, Akane's words snapping her out of the focused state she was in. Leopold just smiled from where he was slouched, head propped up by a hand.

"You shouldn't've interrupted the Boss." Leo drummed his fingers on the railings, even as he glanced at her for a second, "Her combat focus is amazing to watch."

She couldn't help it; she could feel her cheeks burning at that.

"Ah, my apologies Boss," Akane was concentrated fully on the match, yet he was still able to say sorry somewhat, pseudo-seriously, "So, what have you observed from this?"

 _You are our Leader for a reason._

"Well…" She licked her lips, willing her mind to enter its analysis-esque mentality. "…Talos is a misdirection based fighter. His…his guns would make someone think that all he can do is shoot. They attack, and he counters with Gun-Kata."

The crack of gunfire punctuated her statements, as well as the soft hums of Aura activating and steadily depleting.

"There's no wasted movement. He's always deflecting attacks; never absorbing them. It's leaving Citri open after she commits and lets him counterattack with minimal effort." A punch connected with Talos, one that thankfully didn't have a Pile Bunker follow up. "But he's still being overwhelmed though."

It was the simple truth. Talos couldn't hold out forever; his Aura was steadily decreasing, tiring him out and slowing his reactions over time. It wasn't long before Citri finally landed a hit, and for a single moment nothing happened.

And then Talos _disappeared_. A great cloud of dust and cracking filled the air a second later. She winced, Leopold was cringing as well, yet Akane and Thwickett were both unsurprised. For a moment she panicked, eyes darting upwards to the Aura Meters as Talos' own depleted impossibly fast. Only when it stopped did she release her breath.

"That." Leo paused, for once sounding as if he were still looking for the right words, "Was vicious."

Thwickett shrugged as Citri's weapon extended, stake pointing towards where Talos had been embedded.

"That's Citri in a nutshell."

* * *

There was no time to think, only improvise. Citri was already swinging her arm around as she adopted a stance that would absorb the most recoil.

He threw Gia into the air, sending the handgun spinning as his arm continued across.

 _:: Right bandolier; second pouch from top. ::_

He pried the Round Canister loose; the black band painted around the Canister itself was the only clue that it contained a dozen-and-a-half Dust Rounds, and the small symbol painted inside the black band was the only clue as to what type of Dust Round they were.

Combining two or more of the base five elements with the right technique could result in any number of new elements for use. Water and Wind could be combined for Steam Dust, or Boiling Dust, or any number of Secondary Dust types. Lightning and Earth commonly made Magnet Dust - or Gravity Dust as it was erroneously called.

His eyes caught sight of the symbol as the Canister was thrown: a small, hollow, uneven pronged star.

Lightning and Earth could also make some pretty explosions.

Aerlight's eyes narrowed as the Canister careened towards her, and then widened as he snatched Gia out of the air. Both weapons were aimed at the other's wielder, but where Citri had to move the entirely of her upper body to re-aim, all he had to do was flick his wrist.

Gia lined up with the airborne Canister.

 _ **-BTOOOOOM!-**_

The crack of gunfire was _quickly_ drowned out by a grand explosion. He didn't want it to detonate too close to Aerlight - mainly because he wasn't a murderer with a penchant for explosives, but he didn't want it to detonate too far away to the point that it was useless. His right arm joined its left counterpart in being free from the wall, and a second later he pulled himself clean out of his embedded state with a small shower of rubble and debris.

He managed all of two steps before collapsing to one knee. Professor Goodwitch hadn't called the match yet, had she? That meant both Citri and he were still in fighting condition. He didn't feel like he was in fighting condition; or continuing for that matter. Fatigue was gnawing at him, and he could feel it setting in as he was steadily slowing down.

Giving the smoke a few more seconds to dissipate, he spared a glance upwards.

 _ **\- [Vulcan, T. Aura Levels: 21%] - [Aerlight, C. Aura Levels: 36%] -**_

Two thirds. Two thirds of his Aura had been used up defending against _Ratatösk_. For a brief, _absurd_ moment he had entertained voicing complaints and cries of unfairness; quite like a couple of his fellow students were doing at this very moment, actually. No doubt they were others that had been on the receiving end of the Pile Bunker in the past.

The idea was discarded just as quickly as it entered his mind. _Ratatösk_ was a weapon _designed and built_ to kill Grimm. Not fight. Not duel. _KILL_. Grimm didn't care for fairness or equality, so why should they?

A faint rustling caused both handguns to snap up to the ready. Citri hadn't come out of the explosion unscathed: She was crouched on one knee like him; both her hair and tail were a complete mess, not quite singed thanks to her Aura, but still ever-so-slightly blackened by the blast. Her features were set in a tight grimace, and he chalked that down to her body still suffering the lingering effects of minor electrocution as well as the concussive force from the explosion.

Or maybe it had something to do with _Ratatösk_ , which was still _aimed towards him_.

 _ **-Bang!-**_

He threw himself sideways. It wasn't a graceful roll, but a messy, improvised combat tumble. The bullet whizzed overhead as the stake that had become _Ratatösk's_ barrel shot backwards in recoil. Another bullet missed by the smallest of margins and a third caused his Aura to flare to life as it deflected the glancing round.

The impossibly quiet click of a magazine being released was all he heard before his senses screamed at him to move. His Aura hummed once more as he kicked off the ground, profile kept low as he committed to one final attack. Citri scowled as he charged, magazine falling free as she pulled another free from her holsters.

He wasn't fast enough; _not quite_. his dash had put him close enough that she couldn't redeploy the stake back into its barrel form. Rather, she pressed her _Ratatösk_ clad fist flush against the ground.

And then she went _airborne_. For a moment he seethed at the missed opportunity. Going airborne left her completely open to attack and here he had to fight his own momentum. He skidded along the ground, using what little Aura he could spare to slow himself down. The sound of boots striking the ground was all he needed to know that the Squirrel Faunus had landed behind him.

 _Gia_ and _Tous_ blurred as he spun.

 _ **-Click.-**_

Mirrored Revolvers met Pile Bunker in stalemate, and he couldn't quite stop a frown from forming. _Ratatösk_ was planted firmly against his chest, hammerhead poised directly over his _I-CORE Heart_ and ready to fire. He wasn't the only one who had a weapon flush against their self though: his right arm was outstretched, _Tous_ pressing against Citri's collarbone, and even with his right arm pulled back he knew _Gia_ was aimed directly at her centre of mass.

If the frown she was directing his way meant what he though it did, then she knew how even they were right now as well.

 _ **\- [Vulcan, T. Aura Levels: 13%] - [Aerlight, C. Aura Levels: 21%] -**_

For a couple of seconds he toyed with the idea of continuing the duel, mind abuzz with ideas of how to turn this around with only two percent of his Aura at his disposal. It was certainly possible.

Possible, yet there was no reason to. What exactly would he 'prove' by dragging this on? That he could? That he was willing to sacrifice himself for a single win? That he was better?

No, what he _wanted_ to do was interact with people. A little boring, but combat information was only a fraction the whole. There was personal interaction to think about; how would contact go with Citri is he pushed too far here? How would Team Celeste react to his presence if he slighted their Leader with the results of this class? Too many question, and no one true answer. He didn't need an in-depth analysis of the future, nor did he necessarily _want_ one.

Besides, this was beginning to drag out a little too long. Citri had yet to break eye contact since the entered this stalemate and he was sure she was looking for something. What it was he hadn't the foggiest.

"I concede."

The lights flooded back into life, causing spots to dance in his eyes as he pulled _Gia_ and _Tous_ away. Cylinders popped open as he flicked them open and stored the half-filled Canisters back into his bandoliers. _Ratatösk_ was still pressed against his chest even by the time he had re-holstered both revolvers. Citri was glaring at him, expression completely unreadable as she kept her weapon primed.

She nodded once, and then pulled her weapon free. A hand ghosted up to rub the sore area as he grimaced, yet he still nodded back. To hell with his pain simulators; he was definitely going to feel this for a while. By the time he had looked back up, Citri had already left the arena.

He shrugged, and then made to leave as well. Hopefully, given her status as her Team's Leader she'll be able to shelve any hatred towards humanity when it came to working with Team Celeste.

It was something to hope for at any rate.

* * *

"Something troubling you, Citri?"

Lisabelline's voice met her ears as she sat down, a small frown forming as she did so. Of all the people to be partnered with it had to be one of the only friends she had from Pyre.

"No."

She caught Lisa's own frown out of the corner of her eyes, and the entire thing became a silent battle of wills. One second became several, and she didn't know how long this would go on before either she or Lisa gave -

Her eyes flicked left, only for a fraction of a second before they returned to their prior position. Lisa pounced on the Tell like a wildcat, head swivelling so fast she was a blur. A moment later and her expression softened, her eyes studying just what was 'troubling' her.

"Was it necessary to lodge him into a wall? That could've seriously hurt him if he hadn't gotten his Aura up in time."

Lisa worried about everyone over herself far too much. She was - however - not wrong in her worries. Cracking filled the air as Professor Goodwitch repaired the wall she had damaged with her classmate's body. A fair number of people had suffered injuries from when they had been struck by _Ratatösk_ when she…used…

 _Oh…_

"I…" She scratched the back of her head, frown deepening as a sense of embarrassment settled in the bottom of her stomach, "…I forgot that the first magazine had Sledgehammer Rounds loaded."

Her gaze travelled left once more as the weight in her stomach increased. Talos didn't _look_ too injured - and he mustn't have been if he could endure a slap on the back with only a minute wince, but he _still_ winced at the gesture as well as gingerly lowering himself into his seat. He didn't _seem_ like the type to play up his bravado in order to mask any pain…

"Excuses, excuses," Lisa just waved off her reasoning, "Seriously though, you should actually apologise - even if he waves it off."

That…was probably the best idea. Seeing that Talos was seated with Team Violet today, it was entirely possible that he would be working with Celeste in the near future. Besides, his combat style was fairly flexible - not to mention quick thinking, if her protesting joints were evidence enough; not to mention someone that knew their limits.

He was someone - at the very least - worthy of respect. An apology would be a decent start.

"Okay," She slumped as she sighed, "I'll apologise when I get the chance."

Lisa _smiled_. A wide, open mouthed smile that forced her eyes shut due to its wideness.

"Great!"

She couldn't quite stop her own grin from forming. Sometimes Lisa was the greatest human she had ever met.

"Besides!" Lisa's smile became some toothy, impish combination, "He's kinda cute! Don't want to scare him off before actually meeting him, you know?"

Her brow twitched.

…And sometimes…sometimes she was completely insufferable.

* * *

An hour or three later and he was sat in Team Violet's apartment-slash-flat-slash-room. The remainder of the duels passed by without any complications - and in retrospect, they had been positively tame in comparison with his and Citri's own clash. Dinner had been an expected - and given the nature of the Faunus, somewhat stereotypical - and enjoyable affair, even if they had boggled at how much coffee he absently drank over the meal.

Well, everyone except for Leo that is. Coffee might as well be Mistral's national symbol based on how much the average Mistrian drank on a daily basis.

And after that, they had returned to the room with nothing better to do, and he had pretty much got to see how the members of Team Violet spent their free time.

Leopold liked video games; like - a _lot_ of video games. The Faunus had pretty much taken up a fair corner of the sitting area with shelves of discs and a very large flat screen, which he was currently sat in front of and beating away at some grotesque monstrosity. Thwickett had his nose buried in a large leather-bound book, ears the only thing visible over said book and turning the pages so fast that he was sure the Hare Faunus couldn't be actually reading what was on the pages. Akane was pottering about the kitchenette; do whatever it was he was doing.

As for Velvet…

"Are you…are you sure you're alright?"

Well, she wasn't exactly fussing, but he _had_ been punched into a wall and she wasn't completely convinced that he was telling the truth that he was pretty much fine after a couple of hours and would only need a few hours rest.

Still, he couldn't help it. He laughed.

"I think Akane needs more medical care than I do."

The Faunus in question huffed, head held high and trying to act like his comment didn't warrant any paying attention to; although the effect was marred by the somewhat healed welts and bruises that decorated Akane's face.

Leo didn't even look up from where he was seated, far more focused on grinding the boss he was facing into the dirt with his character's bare fists.

"Ehh…nothing a frozen bag of peas won't fix."

If Citri and he had the most…explosive battle then Akane had the most _brutal_. Yang Xiao Long. Describing her as a 'Berserking Wildfire' didn't quite do her justice. During the fight against the Jabberwock, she had attempted to overwhelm the half-dead Grimm to the point where it could not counterattack and the trend continued over in her duel with the Fox Faunus. She had entered the arena and jested that Akane got one chance to surrender so she didn't have to break his 'Pretty face'.

That was mistake - in hindsight; thinking Akane as being delicate. For all the grace Akane carried himself with, the Fox Faunus was surprisingly ferocious; his weapon was testament to that. _Kōun'na Kyū_ : A Quickdraw Charge Blade and Strike Scabbard. Every attack than he landed on Yang with the weapon made it more powerful, and the damage Yang took made _her_ more powerful - her Semblance he suspected, which caused Akane to attack with even more ferocity, and things eventually spiralled out of control.

At some point - somewhere midway - it stopped being a duel and became two people beating the ever-loving hell out of one another.

"How crude." That did absolutely _nothing_ to diminish the fact that Akane was - in fact - _pressing a bag of frozen peas to his face_ as the Fox Faunus sat down next to his teammate. "Parry."

A gong-like sound filled the air, and the boss didn't even have time to fall to its knees before Leo's character retaliated with extreme prejudice.

"I still think my idea was better," Thwickett nodded at his words from where he had buried his nose in a novel, but then again he had been absently nodding for the past several minutes, "Gaming is sort of boring when you're not playing them."

"Your suggestion involved marathoning the Crystal Lake tetralogy."

He couldn't help it; he pouted at Leopold's summary, and the soft single giggle from Velvet made the frown deepen.

"There's nothing wrong with a good old Slasher Genre binge."

The urge to sulk was there, and it only increased when everyone snickered at his sullen tone.

"Might surprise you but I was never one for gory films." He ignored the fact that Leopold was playing a pretty bloody Dark Fantasy game as he said this, "Now if it was a James Blond marathon, then we'd be talking."

Now that he thought about it, Leo did seem like Spy Fiction type of guy.

"Velvet might watch them with you though," Thwickett looked up from his tome, single eyebrow quirked as he levelled an amused stare at his Leader, "I swear up and down that her eyes lit up when you mentioned horror flicks."

That…that was probably the most surprising thing he had discovered _all day_. Not only was Velvet - timid, shy, sweet Velvet - strong enough to dent steel and crack concrete with her kicks, she was an avid fan of Horror. Sure, he had altered the quote to 'I didn't want to lie about his chances…', but Velvet had still replied - somewhat tiredly and drained from her fight - with '…but they don't have my sympathies'. That had resulted in a short - mainly because no one else had any clue as to what they were going on about - but fun discussion about Horror movies as a whole.

Still, James Blond was a twenty plus movie franchise; not something to breeze through in a single night. So…a weekend thing, then.

"I'll have to go digging through my movie library, but I'll hold you to that." He pushed himself up. It was starting to get dark and he'd rather have a couple of hours to himself before packing in for the night. "See you lot tomorrow."

He threw a wave over his shoulder when he received a chorus of affirmatives, and then he was out of their room and walking through the dorm halls.

Really - he though - that was…

…that was fun. Sure, there were probably dozens of other ways he could describe today's experiences as, but 'Fun' just seemed to most apt.

"…I wonder who I'm with tomorrow…"

He reached into his pocket and pulled his Scroll free; depending on who they were, he could hammer out a plan over the next few hours. The screen flickered to life, displaying the four individuals he would be assigned to come the following day.

"Team Ruby."

A soft smile pulled at his lips. This was _definitely_ going to be fun.

* * *

 _ **Next Round - Chapter Four: "RWBY Tuesday"**_


End file.
